Empleado
by VitalElement
Summary: Alberto Del Rio wants Christian. Unfortunately, Christian hates him. But if there's one thing Alberto is good at, it's getting what he wants. So when Christian is dragged into the Mexican aristocrat's life against his will, can Alberto use the opportunity to win him over? ADR/Christian slash, circa 2010. Rated for slash and swearing.
1. The Contract

Author notes: This is going to be a multi-chapter ADR/Christian romance story, which has been inspired pretty much entirely by Alberto's appearance on the Peep Show with Christian back in 2010. I would recommend that you look it up on Youtube and watch it before you read this, not only to gain some context but also because it's an enjoyable little exchange between them. I must make it clear right now that this will** NOT **be a rape/dub-con story. The premise of the story may imply that it might be, but I promise you that it absolutely won't. Enjoy the first chapter!

**Empleado**

**Chapter One – The Contract**

There's something really awesome about being alone in catering backstage at events. It's one of the reasons I always make an effort to be one of the first guys to the arena. I don't know what it is, but I find it so relaxing just to sit quietly at a fold-out table in a cool echoey room, with only a polystyrene cup of strong coffee for company. I'm not even being sarcastic, for once. Maybe it's the idea of 'the calm before the storm', because in a matter of hours nothing about this place will be calm. The entire building will be manic with crew members yelling about how someone's pyro might not be working, or my fellow Superstars complaining about who they're working with, or Divas crying that there aren't enough sequins sewn onto their ring attire. Not that I think that pre-show stress isn't necessary – in fact, I can't remember working a single show in my entire career where I haven't gotten a little wound-up over something. But that doesn't mean that every moment needs to be crazy. Sometimes, it's good to just take time out to simply sit and be.

Man, does that make me sound old or what?

My inner ramblings are cut short when I notice the therapeutic smell of my coffee is gradually being replaced by something else. What is that? Cologne?

Something cobweb-like suddenly brushes against my cheek, making me jump clean out of my chair. Well, that was embarrassing. Thankfully, I managed not to spill coffee all over my new shirt and favourite jeans. What the hell touched me? I look back at my table and see that a white silk scarf has appeared there.

Oh, please not this guy…

Sure enough, when I turn around there stands Mr Tall, Dark and Arrogant himself, wearing an expensive suit and a smile so patronising that it brings my piss to boiling point just to look at it. I didn't even hear him or his little buddy with the bowtie sneak up on me. It's just as well they don't look in the mood for a fight. How long have they been standing there, staring at the back of my head like a couple of stalkers? Suffice to say, I'm not so relaxed anymore. I consider leaving but decide to hold my ground, glaring at both of them. Judging by the way he holds up his hands in surrender, I'm guessing that Mexico's answer to JBL has picked up on the fact that I'm not exactly thrilled to see him.

'_Cálmate_, Christian. I'm not here to upset you, my friend.'

God, I hate that I find his stupid accent so hot. Screw it, let's be honest – **he's** hot too. It's just a shame he has to ruin that by acting like a despicable spoiled dickhead almost one hundred percent of the time.

'I'm not your friend, Alberto. What do you want?'

Continuing to smile like a weirdo, he gestures for me to sit down and I reluctantly return to my seat. He pulls up a chair next to me, leaning in close enough for his cologne to make my head swirl. He stares at me creepily for a second before speaking.

'I've been thinking about our little…conversation in the ring the other day.'

I smirk as he subconsciously caresses his cheek. While it's true that I'd much rather have had him in the ring as an opponent than a Peep Show guest on last week's Smackdown, getting the chance to tell that arrogant prick what I thought of him and to slap him right in his self-important pretty-boy face was still a pretty rewarding experience.

'In particular, that challenge you made to me?' he continues. 'Well, I want you to be the first to know that I've decided to accept. In fact, I've arranged for it to happen tonight! Isn't that exciting?'

My eyes narrow at his exaggerated enthusiasm. Call me cynical, but I've been pestering this guy for a match for weeks and every single time, the answer has been no. Now all of a sudden he's changed his mind, just like that? I don't buy it. 'What's the catch?'

He shrugs, doing a poor job at feigning innocence. 'What makes you think there's one?'

'With men like you, there's always a catch. Not to mention that big stupid grin on your face is pretty much a dead giveaway. So come on, Andy Garcia. Spill it.'

That creepy smile of his grows a few inches wider as he snaps his fingers in his sidekick's general direction. Quick as a whip, Ricardo dumps a brown document folder into his hand, which he then places on the table in front of me. I stare blankly between it and him, waiting for an explanation.

'It's a contract for our match. Be sure to read it carefully before signing.'

A contract? What the hell for? Out of morbid curiosity, I flip open the folder and start scanning the first page. What's this idiot up to? He leans back in his chair and makes no effort whatsoever to hide the fact that he's checking me out. What a freak. If I wasn't so interested in why he feels our match needs a contract, I swear I'd poke him in the eye.

'I hope you don't mind,' he says, trying way too hard to sound casual. 'I just didn't desire for this to be your average match. I mean, you said it yourself. You're the great Christian! You've seen and done everything here. I feared that a simple match may be rather…mundane, a waste of time for both of us. I couldn't have that, so I thought I would suggest a little stipulation to make things more...interesting.'

He could make things even more interesting right now by shutting the hell up. God, he's boring! His droning voice fades into the background as I stop reading for a moment to flick through the entire document, counting as I go. Holy shit, eight double-sided pages long? These things are usually four single-sided pages at most, and even then that would be for some kind of high-stake specialised pay-per-view match rather than a straightforward singles match for TV. What the hell does this jackass have up his sleeve? As I start to read again, I can see that he's still watching me like a hawk, almost as if he's waiting for some kind of reaction. And it's not long before I reach the part that explains why.

What I find myself reading is so ridiculous that I just have to take another look at it. It still doesn't make sense the second time, so I look again, and again. After reading the same offensive sentences six times over, the meaning of the words finally sinks in. I look back up at his borderline-demonic smirking face, glaring as fiercely as I can.

'You can't be serious.' No reply. 'This is a joke, right?'

'I'm no comedian, my friend.'

His shit-eating grin doesn't falter one bit. I can practically feel the disgust percolating in my gut.

'To clarify, if you're announced as the winner tonight…I have to come and work for you as a forfeit?'

He nods vigorously, and the words "fuck that shit" immediately spring to mind. I open my mouth to tell him as much, but he cuts me off.

'It's just like I said. I've thought long and hard about our little conversation, Christian. And I rather like the idea of you cleaning my houses and washing my cars. Or anything else I would ask of you, for that matter.'

As if to accentuate his vile words, the bastard actually has the audacity to reach out and stroke my face! He doesn't flinch when I slap his disgustingly soft hand away, and seems unfazed by how angrily I throw his sorry excuse for a contract back at him. I rise out of my chair with such ferocity that it clatters to the floor behind me. I don't look back as I stomp towards the door behind Ricardo, who visibly cringes as I pass him. Poor kid. I wouldn't do anything to harm him for the redundant actions of his boss, but I can't blame him for looking nervous. I'm pretty sure my face is probably purple with rage by now. The nerve of that rich pompous asshole! Who the hell does he think he is? Just as I reach for the handle, I hear said asshole call out to me.

'If you'd care to read on further, you'll see it's only temporary. A month, that's all.'

I laugh scornfully, not bothering to turn back. 'I wouldn't agree to work for you for a second, let alone a month! You see, I have this little thing called self-respect. No offense, Ricardo.'

As I pull the handle and step out into the hallway, my face feels like it's on fire. Does this guy think I'm crazy, or just stupid? Does he really expect me to fall for such an obvious trap, considering everything that's happened between us? After everything that he's said and done? I'm barely five paces away from the door before his voice stops me in my tracks again.

'How strange this is! This isn't the almighty veteran I spoke with last week. Weren't you the one desperate to defend the honour of your friend, _el patético perrito_, Mysterio? _Me decepcionas_, Christian. I thought you would have enough faith in your ability that a simple wager would not scare you. I see now that I was wrong.'

I know I shouldn't allow myself to be baited by his words, but I can't help it. Spinning around on my heels, I see him leaning against a large equipment case, grinning with his hands in his pockets like some kind of crooked used-car salesman. I notice Ricardo hovering in the doorway watching us, the contract in one hand and that obnoxious white scarf in the other. I walk over to Alberto slowly, giving him a hefty dose of what Adam refers to as my 'psycho-bitch look'. It doesn't seem to work – he still continues to smirk like a lunatic. When I'm face to face with him again, it takes every ounce of my self-control not to punch his lights out. I hate that he can clearly see how I'm trembling with pent-up emotion.

'I have plenty of faith in my ability, Alberto.' My voice is a low growl, almost a whisper. 'In fact, I could kick your ass any given day of the week. What I **don't** have faith in is your ability to keep this a fair fight.'

He shrugs. 'I've stipulated an interference ban, extending to all outside parties. That includes Ricardo, Edge, or anybody else you'd care to name. You really ought to read the contract properly before needlessly getting upset over things, Christian. I think you'll find my proposal to be very fair.'

'Well, what happens if **you **lose?'

Another shrug. 'You prove your point and life goes on as normal.'

'And you think that's fair?'

'It's perfectly fair, in that I'm not forcing you to agree to my terms. But if you don't, you won't get the match that you claim to so urgently desire. This is your one and only chance to have me. What's it to be?'

Another snap of the fingers brings Ricardo scurrying over to us with the contract. Alberto takes it from him and dangles it in front of my face, cocking his head to one side and pouting mockingly. It's as if he's teasing me with it, like you would a kitten with a string. Patronising dickhead! My blood boiling, I snatch it from him as aggressively as I can, but this only seems to broaden that hideous smile of his further.

'Fine! I'll look over this glorified scrap of toilet paper and let you know. Until then, why don't you go slither back down the hole you came out of?'

He chuckles darkly, taking a moment to look me over again before stepping closer to me. My insides shudder violently at his invasion of my personal space. I can actually feel the heat of his body radiating against mine, and it makes my skin tingle in a way that I'm not sure I like. He lowers his eyes, and it takes me a few seconds to realise he's staring at my mouth. Oh, hell no! I swear to God, he'd better not even be thinking about it! Fortunately for him, his eyes come back up again and he settles for winking at me in his usual obnoxious way. Just as well – if he'd have touched me again, I probably would have murdered the arrogant prick.

'_Qué bueno_,' he murmurs. 'I look forward to hearing from you.'

I feel my entire body unclench when he finally turns to strut off down the hallway, Ricardo hot on his heels. I immediately regret not taking the opportunity to slap the taste of out his mouth again. Heaven knows he would have deserved it. I look down at the contract in my hands before walking back into catering. The room is still empty, the only signs of life being my overturned chair and abandoned coffee cup. Sighing deeply, I return my chair to its rightful place, sit down and start reading.

So much for the calm before the storm.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Author notes: It's been a while since I've written in first person, or written anything that wasn't a plot-free sex scene, so my apologies if this was a clunky start. I hope this seems like an interesting premise – please let me know what you think! Chapter two will provide more insight into Christian's implied 'history' with Alberto, and should hopefully be posted within the next few days. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


	2. The History

Author notes: Thanks to those who read/favourited/followed/reviewed the first chapter – much appreciated! Here's the next bit. My apologies if there's any typos or if it just plain sucks. It's been a long week. Enjoy!

**Chapter Two – The History**

After spending two hours reading and procrastinating over Alberto's 'proposal', it didn't take me long to decide what my choice was to be. However, a second opinion in a situation like this never hurts. And who better to give a second opinion than my best friend? So here I am, sitting in the corner of the locker room, watching Adam pace the floor as he leafs through the contract. He occasionally stops to shake his head and mutter obscenities, but otherwise stays pretty much totally silent. We're not alone here – Randy is sprawled out on the floor doing crunches, aloof as usual, half-listening to my predicament. I wouldn't call us 'best friends', but Randy and I are pretty good pals, so I have no objection to discussing this matter with him too. When Adam decides that he's done enough power-walking around the room he throws the document folder down, sending all eight pages scattering. I nearly make a smart remark about how delightfully melodramatic he is for a straight man, but bite my tongue when I clock the look on his face. Oh, boy. I know what that look means. Here comes the lecture in three, two, one…

'Christian, there's no way you can agree to this. A month of running around after his rich ass like his personal lapdog, doing whatever he says? And you have to live with him, you know? In his house, for an entire month! There won't be any escape for you! Do you have any idea how humiliating he could make this for you? Not only that, did you read the part about breach of contract? If you try to back out of the agreement, you'll be barred from competing for any championships for the remainder of your WWE career!'

I can't help rolling my eyes. Adam's mother hen routine is not what I need right now. I'm starting to wish I'd just gone with my gut instinct and not bothered to tell him. I look over to Randy for help and find him frozen mid-crunch, eyebrows knotted as he looks over one of the pages.

'Wow. Can he really arrange for all of this to be enforced? Is Long even gonna let you agree to this?'

I sigh, getting more irritated by the minute. 'Teddy's already looked it over. He said that if I'm happy to be bound by the terms of the contract, then he's happy to let me sign it.'

In yet another overwhelming display of hetero-masculinity, Adam makes some weird pitchy strangled noise of disbelief and flails his arms up and down.

'You're not seriously considering signing?'

His face darkens when I reach behind my ear and produce a fountain pen. I quickly return it to that position before he decides to shove it into my trachea.

'Look, I've been trying to goad him into a match for weeks now. This is my chance to put my money where my mouth is.'

I hop up from the bench and start collecting up the discarded pages, but Adam grabs my arm and tugs me around to face him again.

'Don't you think agreeing to his stipulation is kinda dangerous, considering the history between the two of you? I mean, don't you think his intentions are a little obvious?'

I grind my teeth together so hard they nearly crumble into dust. I was wondering how long it would take him to bring that up.

'I don't care what his intentions are, Adam. His pathetic contract doesn't intimidate me. The guy is in desperate need of an ass-kicking, and I wanna be first in line to do it.'

Randy gets to his feet and joins us, handing me the few pages that fell closest to where he'd been lying.

'Am I missing something here?' he says. 'What history? Did you and Del Rio have something going on?'

'No!'

Randy cocks an eyebrow at me as I silently curse myself. Nice going, Christian; that sounded really fucking believable! Randy turns his attention to Adam, who eyes me warily before sighing.

'They had a fling about six months ago.'

'It wasn't a fling!'

For crying out loud, why won't my voice let me sound like I'm telling the truth? Adam rolls his eyes at me.

'Okay, fine - they had a **fumble** about six months ago.'

'A "fumble"?' Randy snorts, sounding mildly amused. 'And six months ago? I don't get it. Hasn't Del Rio only been around for like, a month?'

Fuck! I really don't want to have to go through all this again! Why the hell did Adam feel the need to bring it up? I'm torn between glaring daggers at him and struggling to find the words to explain myself. Randy folds his arms and waits, looking more and more entertained with each passing second. Well then, here's some of my death-glare for you too, you big tattooed jackass!

'Look, it's not what it sounds like!' I finally blurt out. 'I didn't even know it was him at the time!'

Okay, that's probably not much of an explanation. In fact, it looks like it's just made him even more confused, and why on earth wouldn't it? It's such a messed-up situation that even I'm not entirely sure how it happened. Goddamn it…

I suppose I should try explaining things in a little more detail…

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

There's nothing quite like a long leisurely shower after a hard-won house-show match.

My scrapes and bruises sting beneath the cascade of piping hot water, and it feels glorious. I've definitely earned this tonight, after once again beating down that mysterious new luchador. What was his name again? "Junior Caras" or something? The guy never spoke to anyone so nobody knew much about him, though rumour had that it he was a former MMA champion back in Mexico. Considering how my ribs felt after a few stiff kicks from him, I could quite believe that to be true. I could see the guy debuting on TV soon, based on the execution and strength of his arsenal alone.

Actually, the fact that he has a pretty hot bod probably won't hurt his chances either. His body type is kinda similar to mine, only a little bigger. Beautifully toned upper body. Well-defined leg muscles. Insanely soft bronze skin. A not-bad looking ass. Nice! Not so sure about his taste in ring attire though. Sparkly gold masks and trunks are one thing, but a sparkly gold cape too? He looks like the world's gayest superhero. Still, he's definitely an eight or a nine in my book. From the neck downward anyway – nobody had seen the guy's face yet, so it was probably safe to assume that he looks like a Hispanic Rocky Dennis. Luchadores are rarely lookers. Don't get me wrong – Rey Mysterio is one of my best buds and I love him to death. But that doesn't change the fact that he looks like a butch lesbian crossed with a baby underneath that mask of his. Definitely would not bang!

Anyway, the new masked kid is tough, no question. Just not as tough as me. After facing him four times in recent weeks, I haven't lost to him once.

I shut off the shower and sling my towel around my waist. The locker room is deserted, with everybody either in catering or back at their hotels already. That's fine by me – sometimes it's better to not have to make awkward small talk while you're in a roomful of wet naked men. I start rooting around in my bag for deodorant when something shiny in the corner of the room catches my attention. A glittering gold and white mask, atop a glistening bronze chest and gold trunks. Well, speak of the devil… There he stands, as still as a statue, his dark eyes watching me closely. His mouth is neutral, not threatening but not exactly smiling either. Just…blank, emotionless. I could have sworn I felt my heart stop dead in my chest. Why is he looking at me like that? Swallowing thickly, I conjured up my best winning smile.

'Hey there, buddy. You lost something?'

No reply. And the staring continues. I retie my towel more tightly around my waist, for lack of anything better to do. I try to break eye-contact with him, to focus on any other point in the room, but my eyes keep getting pulled back around to his. Maybe he didn't understand me.

'Are…are you okay?'

Again, not even a flicker. Shit. Maybe he's mad about losing to me again. Considering those MMA rumours, I damn sure hope not! I laugh nervously without really meaning to.

'Dude, come on! You're starting to freak me out here.'

At last he moves, inclining his head slightly to the left, and I could swear those dark scary eyes of his look amused for a moment. I notice his lips twitch upwards into a small smile before quick as lightning, he lunges towards me. I try to cry out, but my voice fails me. I can't even think to react as he grasps my shoulders, pulls me close and slides his mouth onto mine. What the hell? I'm so stunned that I can't do anything but stand there, not registering what's happening as his warm wet mouth continues to nudge against mine. As I finally awake to the friction against my lips, I feel a tremendous surge in my chest, as if he's just stolen the breath from my lungs. My hands have gone onto autopilot, one keeping my towel from falling away while the other grasps around aimlessly. He notices my flailing and grabs my wrists, holding them still. As he continues to dust my mouth with light kisses, I feel powerless to do anything. I know what I **should** be doing, and that's pushing him away and getting the hell out of there. But as strange as it seems, I don't want to. I just…don't feel like I'm in any danger from him. His kisses are very insistent, but gentle. And his lips are really soft. And he smells so good…

Okay, I usually don't have a habit of making out with strangers. I mean, I don't even know this guy's name or even what his face looks like. However, he's clearly a very passionate man and it feels kind of rude not to return his…enthusiastic display of affection. I open my mouth a little, teasing his lips with my tip of my tongue. He smiles, responding in kind, and my eyes drift shut. God, his mouth tastes wonderful. Beautiful and exotic, just like the rest of him.

Satisfied that I'm not going to run away, he releases my wrists. I reward his trust by sliding my arms around him, exploring the smooth skin of his back and feeling his muscles ripple beneath my fingertips. As he presses his body to mine, there's an obvious bulge in his trunks that I just can't help grinding against. I feel all kinds of pleased with myself when he moans into my mouth, his strong arm snaking around my waist so he can pull me even closer. I feel a breeze as my towel finally falls away and his hands are on my ass instantly, stroking and squeezing. I shudder, my head swimming. What the hell am I doing? Is this going too far? I feel one of his hands move to the back of my neck, tickling the skin there and urging me to kiss him harder. It doesn't take me long to comply, and I gently graze my teeth against his probing tongue. I guess I can roll with it a bit longer and see what happens. If things get too intense, I can always put the brakes on. I just hope that this dude understands enough English to recognise the word 'no'.

He nudges me backwards and I allow him to guide me into the showers. He mutters huskily in Spanish in between kisses. I have no idea what he's saying, but it sounds so sexy and perfect. He presses my back up against a tiled wall and I shudder violently at how cold it is. He chuckles softly, his lips moving to my jaw and neck. He notices that he hits a sweet spot just below my ear and attacks it, licking and nibbling at my skin until I'm almost dizzy with desire. I don't need to look down to know that I'm hard as a rock by now. His silky hands trace patterns across my torso as I reach behind him, kneading that cute ass of his in my palms. His touch comes to a halt at the base of my pelvis, and he looks up at me with those seductive dark eyes. Why has he stopped? Is he waiting for permission to take this further? I suppose I really should stop this...shouldn't I? I mean, this is undoubtedly an insane situation but as I look back into his eyes, I don't know if I want it to stop. Don't know if I **can** stop…

My mind made up, I cup the back of his head and pull him into another crushing kiss. He grips at my hips to balance himself, and I feel my stiff cock bump against the swelling in his trunks. His soft moans and sighs reach my ears like some sort of haunting melody. When we finally part, his pleading eyes find mine again, and suddenly I'm filled with the most unnerving need to stare into those beautiful brown orbs forever. I nod gently and he smiles, winking cheekily as he sinks to his knees in front of me…

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

Author notes: In case the masked element of this chapter confused anyone, let me explain. Before debuting as Del Rio, Alberto wrestled as a masked luchadore by the name of Dos Caras Jr. He never appeared on TV as this character, but worked a lot of house-shows against the likes of Christian. I'm sure most of you were probably aware of that, but I thought I'd better explain things for those who perhaps weren't.

In the next chapter, Randy gives his thoughts on Christian's predicament, and we see if Christian signs the contract or not. If you would be so kind as to let me know what you thought of this chapter, I would be most grateful. Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Thanks for reading!


	3. The Decision

Author notes: My apologies for taking so long. I really need to stop making promises regarding when I'm going to update, because I can never seem to keep them. Thanks again to all readers, reviewers, etc. Your time and kind words are much appreciated. Please enjoy chapter three!

**Chapter Three – The Decision**

I can see Adam out of the corner of my eye, shaking his head like a disappointed father as I finish giving Randy the abridged version of events from my encounter with 'Dos Caras Jr'. Naturally, I skimmed over the details that logic would suggest a couple of straight guys wouldn't be all that keen on hearing. When I'm done, I can tell from the strained expression on Randy's face that he's trying desperately hard to not burst out laughing. At least somebody finds this situation amusing.

'So basically, the reason Del Rio is so fixated on you is that you anonymously fucked him in the showers?'

I wince a little at hearing the F word. Don't misunderstand me; 'fuck' is a great curse word, and one I use all the time. I just hate hearing it used within the context of sex. Call me an old-fashioned romantic if you want, but it just sounds like such a harsh and uncaring word to describe an act that's supposedly so beautiful and meaningful. _"Hey, did you __**fuck**__ him last night? Yeah, I totally __**fucked**__ his brains out."_ Does that sound beautiful to you? Because it sounds fucking brutal to me. Anyway, I digress…

'I got caught up in the heat of the moment, alright? It was a mistake, and not one I'm in the habit of making. We just…it felt right at the time, you know?'

'Aw, how romantic.' Sarcastic jackass! 'Hey, is that why you like superhero movies so much? You got some kind of masked man fetish?'

Oh, his grinning mug is just begging to be Killswitched tonight! 'Haven't you got a vat of baby oil to go drown yourself in, Orton?'

'Hey, I'm not judging! So what happened after your "fumble"?'

I consider telling him to piss off until I notice that he's been kind enough to finally wipe that amused smirk off his big goofy face. Maybe he'll stop being such a smartass if I just answer his questions. I should probably feel honoured that he's even asking, since it's not at all like him to be so interested in someone else's problems.

'He just kind of disappeared. Even stopped showing up to shows. But every so often, I'd find these…notes in random places. Like hidden inside one of my boots or taped to the windshield of my rental car.'

'Notes? You mean like love letters?'

I hesitate for a second before nodding. 'Although I didn't realise it at first, since they were written in Spanish. I made the mistake of asking Rey to translate one of them.' I laugh in spite of myself. 'That was an awkward conversation! After that, it was Google Translate all the way. A few months later, those obnoxious "Alberto Del Rio" video packages started airing on TV one day. I knew I recognised him from somewhere, but it wasn't until I saw him in person that I realised where from. When I saw his eyes up close again…'

I trail off, distracted by a sharp tugging sensation in the chest. To this day, I can't fathom why I felt the way I did when I realised who my masked admirer truly was. I can't call it 'heartbroken' because that sounds so ridiculous in the circumstances. Let's just say that I was intensely disappointed. It seems a little dumb in retrospect, for me to have taken it so personally. I mean, the guy was just a one night stand, a stupid mistake that should never have happened. But when I think about those notes… The person who had written them had seemed so different to who the person was in the flesh. I felt lied to, played with. And no matter how I tried to reason with myself that it didn't matter, that the whole thing was never anything real to begin with… it didn't change the fact that I felt hurt.

I'm brought back to reality when I notice a rare playful sparkle in Randy's eyes.

'You have feelings for him.'

The abruptness of his question catches me off-guard. Actually, no – it wasn't a question. It was blatantly a statement. He looks oddly triumphant as I struggle to string a sentence together.

'No! That's just…well, how the hell could I? I don't even know the guy!'

That wasn't technically a lie. I mean, how could I genuinely have feelings for someone who didn't really exist?

'Well, if you went so far as to have sex with him, there must have been some kind of a spark there.'

Yeah, that's rich coming from a serial womaniser! 'It was just sex, Randy. Feelings had nothing to do with it.'

'Do you still think about it? About him?'

I'm trying so hard not to look as uncomfortable as his questions are making me feel. I glance over at Adam for help, but as usual he's about as much use as a fishnet condom, standing silently with his head down, reading over the contract again. I look back at Randy, but I refuse to reply to his stupid question. The answer should be obvious anyway. Of course I still think about that self-important bastard. It's very difficult **not** to think about somebody you see at work every week, especially if they're as irritatingly attention-seeking as Alberto Del Rio. I take a moment to choose my words carefully and let out a shuddery sigh before speaking.

'Look…I'll admit that there was a time when I found his attention flattering. But that was then. It's not as if I knew the person under that mask would turn out to be such a selfish conceited jackass.'

Randy nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 'What did the letters he sent you say? How did they make you feel?'

My jaw drops a little, and my heart suddenly starts beating so loud that I can hear it. What is this, Uncle Orton's relationship hotline? Am I getting charged premium rate per minute for this shit? Who the hell died and made this guy a love expert all of a sudden? I clench my hands tightly to conceal how violently they're trembling. That does it. I'm done answering questions. I don't want to talk about Alberto anymore, and I especially don't want to talk about those fucking letters. I just want to sign the damn contract and get ready for my match.

'It's not worth discussing,' I say as evenly as possible. 'The letters weren't real. Nothing in them provided me with a true representation of who he really is.'

'But did you ever consider that maybe the person in those letters **is** the real him? That the jerk in those stupid vignettes is just a front? If the person in those letters made you feel something, then maybe-'

'I don't want to talk about it! Just stop!'

The lump rising in my throat cracks my voice, and I silently curse myself for sounding so pathetic, for being so weak. Randy tries to look sympathetic, but something in his eyes screams out that he knows he's hit the nail on the head. Hot tears prickle at the fronts of my eyes, so I shut them tightly. Damn it… just…fucking damn it all! Why can't he just leave me alone?

When I open my eyes again, Randy is casting a concerned look over my shoulder at Adam. I deliberately don't follow his gaze. I don't need to. I know exactly how Adam looks right now. This isn't the first time I've had this conversation.

'Just what are you trying to pull here, Randy? Why are you're trying to make it sound like he's this lovelorn Romeo and I'm some cold-hearted bitch for trying to give him the brush-off?'

I'm pleasantly surprised at how much calmer I sound, but a tell-tale quiver in my voice still continues to betray me. Even more surprising is the fact that Randy looks a little…guilty for upsetting me? He places both of his hands on my shoulders and squeezes gently. Wow, a physical gesture of comfort from the Legend Killer? To what do I owe the privilege? He isn't usually this nice to me. Or anyone else, for that matter!

'I'm not trying to pull anything, Christian,' he says softly, offering me a wan smile. 'I'm merely playing devil's advocate to try and help you make sense out of this.'

'Well, thanks. But you know what? There's no need, because it makes perfect sense to me already.' I turn around and retrieve the contract from Adam so I can wave it under Randy's nose. 'Do you know what this is? This is Alberto's way of telling me, "If you won't be with me willingly, I'll find a way to force you." There's nothing romantic about that. He's being outright manipulative. Acting out like a spoiled brat because he's not getting what he wants. Yet another typical example of why I'm not interested in him. And never will be.'

To my relief, Randy finally seems to get the hint and concedes, stepping back from me and folding his arms.

'Well, you've clearly made an impression on him,' he grins. 'And I can see why. I'd love to find a girl who was up for unprotected shower sex, without wanting even so much as my real name or a glance at my face first.'

Shit… It sounds pretty terrible when he puts it like that. I know he's only kidding so I force myself to return his smile, but I'm not really in a joking mood right now. Judging by the way Adam steps in between us and glares at Randy, he doesn't find it all that amusing either.

'You see? This is why you're better off being moody and vindictive, Orton. You're about as funny as one of Cena's promos, and twice as annoying.' He then turns to me. 'Doesn't all of this history just underline why you should be taking this a little more seriously? Haven't you considered the kind of things that Del Rio could force you to do?'

I flip open the contract to its back page and notice for the first time that Alberto has already signed his section in advance. My eyes linger on his distinct penmanship, familiar feelings of sadness stirring in my heart. Damn it… Thanks a lot for the trip down Memory Lane, Randy. That was really what I needed right before an important match! I shake off my impending melancholy as best as I can and clear my throat.

'The contract states he can ask me to perform any task of his choosing, but only within reason. That might mean carrying his bags or scrubbing his toilets, but I'm not signing up to be his personal sex slave. Why are we even talking about this anyway? It's not going to happen. Unless you think that it will? Is that what this is? Are you guys saying that you don't think I can beat him?'

I notice Randy raise an eyebrow at my defensiveness, but Adam doesn't flinch. He knows how fiery I can be, especially when I feel like my abilities are being brought into question. I know I sound petulant, but it's totally Randy's fault for getting me so worked up over his stupid theories about Alberto. Adam sighs, resting a soothing hand against the small of my back.

'You know full well that we have every confidence in your ability to beat him, but you can't blame us for being a little concerned. Del Rio is obviously heavily motivated going into this. Just one misstep in your game could mean curtains for you. It's a pretty huge risk for you to take, and an unnecessary one at that. If you want my honest opinion, I think that you should just swallow your pride and tell him to shove it.'

'This isn't about pride, Adam. It's about showing that stuck-up asshole that he can't get away with treating people however he pleases.'

'By giving him the opportunity to treat **you** however he pleases?'

'He'll only have that opportunity if I lose, and I won't! Mask or no mask, he's never beaten me before and I don't plan on letting him start now.'

Before he can say another word, I whip the pen out from behind my ear and scribble my signature on the dotted line. Adam looks as if he's about to read me the riot act, but seems to change his mind and shrugs despairingly.

'Fine,' he sighs. 'It's your decision. I'll be watching though. If he tries anything screwy-'

I raise a hand, cutting him short. 'He won't. What would be the point? If he gets himself disqualified, I win. And if you break his no interference clause, **I** get disqualified and **he** wins. So please just keep out of it, okay?'

He nods as I flip the folder shut and turn towards the door. It'll give me the utmost pleasure to personally deliver this thing to Teddy Long's office. Whatever happened in the past is history, but the fact still remains that Alberto Del Rio is long overdue a lesson in respect. And I can't wait to be the one to teach it to him. Just as I'm about to close the door behind me, I glance back over my shoulder. Randy has returned to his locker space and is fiddling with his phone, but Adam is still stood in the centre of the locker room, his ever-concerned face staring after me. I shoot him a confident grin.

'Don't worry, man. I got this.'

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Author notes: This chapter ended up being a little longer and more angsty than I wanted it to be. Future chapters will be more good-humoured, I promise! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter…the match!


	4. The Favour

Author notes: Thanks for the reads and reviews for the last chapter. A quick apology to my American peeps with regards to the spelling of the chapter title; I'm British so I spell 'favor' with a 'u'. And since Christian is Canadian, I would assume that he would also. Anyway, on with the match! Enjoy!

**Chapter 4 – The Favour**

The match is almost over, I can feel it. And as predicted, I'm the one in control.

As much as I hate to admit it, Alberto's giving me the fight of my life here. Adam was right – this whole situation has definitely lit a fire under him. He's really upped his game but so have I, thanks to Randy's 'pep talk'. Our little chat has stirred up a lot of unresolved frustration in me, and it would appear that kicking Alberto's ass is the ideal way to remedy it. Victory is as good as mine.

He lunges at me and I sidestep him, shoving him through the ropes to the outside of the ring. He lies in a heap as the ref leads the crowd in counting up to ten, and I take the chance to catch my breath. There's no use in going after him – if he gets counted out, I win. I can see Ricardo sitting behind the bell ringer's barricade looking worried. He's obviously itching to jump up and help his boss, so I beckon to him sarcastically. Go ahead, little man. Get him disqualified. I'd rather have the satisfaction of pinning the bastard myself, but a win is a win after all.

I hear Alberto gasp and groan as he hauls himself back into the ring just in time. I back up a little as he stumbles up to a vertical base and swings a desperate punch at me. I'm too quick for him though, and he's soon down on his back again after I dropkick him right in his arrogant face. Wasting no time, I pounce into the cover but he powers out after two. I don't argue with the ref's count - judging by how aggressively Alberto kicked out, he's still too strong. Time for a Killswitch, I think. I slowly climb to my feet, watching him struggle to his knees. The fans know what I'm thinking, and I treat myself to a sly smile as they cheer in anticipation. Don't say I didn't warn you, Del Rio! When he's at just the right height, I hook his arms from behind and…

Shit! I realise the second I go to turn him that I haven't hooked him in tightly enough. Judging by how hard he shoves me away, he knows it too. The crowd groans in dismay as I'm propelled forward, my upper body colliding with a turnbuckle. Despite the impact winding the shit out of me, I manage to grab hold of the top rope to keep myself upright. My chest hitches spasmodically as I struggle to get my bearings. Come on, Christian! If I can pull myself together quickly enough, momentum will still be on my side.

The crowd suddenly grows insanely loud and I feel the ring beneath me shudder violently. What the hell was that? More to the point, why the hell is the bell ringing? I turn my head to see Alberto flat out and face down on the canvas, and the referee leaning through the ropes talking to Tony Chimel. What just happened? Did Alberto black out or something? I lean back against the turnbuckle, straining my ears to hear Chimel's announcement over the noise the crowd is making.

"_Here is your winner by way of disqualification; Alberto Del Rio!"_

What? I've been disqualified? How? Why? The second I hear that obnoxious Mariachi music and see Ricardo bouncing around as if _"el patrón"_ just won the WWE title, the enormity of the situation hits me.

I lost.

This can't be happening…

This just can't be right! What the hell went on when my back was turned? Ricardo has entered the ring to fuss over Alberto, who is still completely out of it. The ref is pacing around them, trying to work out whether medical assistance is required. I lunge forward and grab for his arm, perhaps a little harder than I should, but I'm pissed off and outright confused right now.

'Dude, what the hell's going on? Why was I DQ-ed?'

Slightly wide-eyed at how frantic I look, he wordlessly gestures towards the replay showing up on the Titan Tron before tugging away from me and turning back to Alberto. What I see on the screen throws me for a loop.

No way…

I rake my fingers through my sweat-drenched hair as I struggle to fathom what I'm looking at. I don't understand…

Why would he do this to me?

After taking one last glance over at Alberto – who is starting to show signs of life – I slide out of the ring and dash backstage to hunt down my so-called "friend". After a few minutes of frantic running around, I spot him walking by the production truck towards the parking lot, luggage in hand. That son of a bitch really thinks he's gonna pull that kind of shit on me and just leave? I don't think so!

'Randy! Don't you dare walk away from me!'

My outraged tone doesn't even break his stride. I know that he heard me, there's no way he couldn't have. He's straight up fucking ignoring me! Seeing red, I run up behind him and yank him around to face me. I'm forceful enough that his bags fall from his grasp, and he actually has the nerve to give me a warning look! Is he for real? He's lucky I'm not kicking his head in right now! In fact, I might just do that. But I have a few questions first.

'Just what the hell did you think you were doing out there?'

He shrugs. 'RKO-ing your lover-boy. It just felt like the kind of thing a "moody and vindictive" person would do.'

His casual tone and derisive grin blow my mind. Does he think this is funny?

'Don't give me that shit, Randy! Do you realise what you've done?'

'I've done you a favour.'

'A favour? I was about to win that match and you fucked things up for me! And you call that a favour? You've cost me my freedom for the next month!'

My face is so hot from anger and screaming at him that it's giving me a headache. He doesn't seem fazed in the slightest, even rolling his eyes at me.

'I've given you the opportunity to sort your head out,' he says flatly. 'You can try to hide it all you want, and Adam can try to validate your denial by pandering to you all he wants. But you're clearly confused about your feelings for Alberto.'

'The only thing that's clear is that you're out of your mind!' Seriously, what has this asshole been smoking? Is this some new gimmick I haven't been told about? Randy "Stupid Cupid" Orton? I'm having a real hard time believing that this was genuinely some twisted attempt at match-making, but I'm way too annoyed to make sense of anything right now. 'I've already told you, there are no feelings for me to be confused about! I can't stand that deceitful son of a bitch, and now I'm stuck with him for a month, thanks to you!'

He simply shrugs again. 'What harm will it do? You said it yourself, that you don't believe you'd be in any danger from him. He says that he cares for you, so who knows? You might even end up having a good time.'

I feel so tempted to slap him, it's not even funny. 'Have you heard yourself? Have those voices in your head finally screwed you up completely? I don't want to have time of any sort with Alberto! How many times do I have to say it? And since when has what I choose to do in my love life been any of your fucking business anyway?'

'It just so happens that I have good reason to make it my business.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

He starts to answer, but is cut dead when he spots something behind me.

'Just trust me.'

Trust him? I can't even stand to look at him right now, let alone trust him! And what "good reason" could he possibly have to-

'_¡Oye!_ _Cabrón!' _

Oh, great… I can barely bring myself to look round as Alberto hobbles over to us, looking worse for wear and using his ring announcer as a human crutch. Upon reaching us, he pulls free from Ricardo's grasp and squares up to Randy.

'_¿Cuál es tu problema, perro?' _he growls. 'Who do you think you are, interrupting my match? What gives you the right to assault me?'

Randy grins, but doesn't reply. Instead, he unexpectedly drags me in closer to himself, and then shoves me hard towards Alberto. I gracelessly trip over my own feet, but strong arms and a bronze chest keep me from hitting the ground. I look up and find myself caught in dark brown eyes. The world seems frozen around me for a moment. Oh, God… I've had dreams like this, where he stops me from falling and I just lose myself in those captivating chocolate pools of his. They weren't real though. Like so many other things…

A lump gathers in my throat and I feel like I'm about to either cry or puke. Before I can embarrass myself any more than I already have tonight, I push Alberto away from me and glare at Randy. He ignores me, his attention set on Alberto instead.

'He's all yours, Del Rio. Enjoy.'

With that, he gathers up his luggage and struts off towards the parking lot. I sincerely hope he gets run over. Let's face it - it'll be a less painful death for him than if Adam gets to him first. I hesitantly turn back to Alberto, who still looks bewildered until Ricardo starts gibbering excitedly in Spanish and gestures towards me. A look of unequivocal smugness possesses his face, like he's only just realised what Randy's actions signify.

'Of course…how could I be so short-sighted? That _idiota grosero _got you disqualified! That means I win!'

'Look, I don't know why but Randy did this deliberately! I had that match as good as won, and you know it!'

'But you didn't win, did you? My hand was raised in victory, not yours.'

'But-'

He gestures to Ricardo, who seems to produce that ominous brown folder from out of nowhere. I swallow heavily as Alberto removes the document from within and holds it up to my face. I'm so screwed…

'Did you not agree to my terms, Christian? Specifically the part that says if someone interferes in the match on your behalf, you are to be disqualified? That being disqualified equates to a loss? Did you not read and sign this contract? Is this not your signature? Well?'

In sheer exasperation, I slap the contract out of his hand, sending the papers flying. Those damn pages have seen their fair share of abuse tonight. As Ricardo scurries to pick them up, I lower my eyes in defeat. Adam was right. Alberto is right. I sealed my own fate by agreeing to his terms and signing a legally-binding contract. Despite the circumstances, I lost the match and there's nothing I can do or say to change that.

My legs suddenly lose their strength and I sink to my knees, trying to process what I'm feeling right now. Numb, is the answer. What the fuck was Randy thinking? How could he do this to me? I hear Alberto chuckle darkly as he moves closer to stand in front of me, cupping my chin in his hand and turning my face up towards him. I'm too exhausted to fight it, both mentally and physically. I fix my gaze firmly on that self-satisfied smirk. I can't bring myself to meet those eyes again.

'Be sure to sleep well tonight, my friend,' the arrogant smile drawls. 'Starting tomorrow, you are mine.'

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Author notes: Well…Christian lost, so he's officially Del Rio's lapdog for a month. As much as I hate to see Christian do the job, I guess there wouldn't have been much of a story to tell if he'd won! And what a naughty boy Randy turned out to be, huh? More about him and his motivation later on in the story. The next chapter will feature Ricardo showing Christian the ropes on his first day on the job at Alberto's estate. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews, as always, are much appreciated. Until next time, adios!


	5. The House

Author notes: Thank you to everyone for all the reads, reviews, favourites and follows so far. I genuinely didn't expect anyone to be interested in such an uncommon slash pairing, so I'm most grateful for your support. Chapter 5 was shaping up to be ridiculously long, so I've had to split it into two chapters so as not to swamp you guys with too much in one go. Enjoy!

**Chapter 5 – The House**

The drive home from the show felt way longer than usual, due to Adam spending the whole journey repeatedly telling me 'I told you so', as well as plotting the most efficient way for him to kill both Alberto and Randy in one fell swoop. Although I couldn't fault his enthusiasm, the experience made me wish I'd just walked. I can totally get why some of the boys prefer to travel alone. Unfortunately that's not something I'm going to be able to experiment with anytime soon, since I'm now stuck with a Mexican aristocrat as my "travel buddy" for the next month. When I finally got home in the wee hours of the morning, I was exhausted but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. All I could think about was what the next four weeks could have in store for me. I tried to focus on the only positive I could come up with – namely that the contract explicitly prohibits Alberto from making me do anything considered 'unreasonable'. At least that means no back rubs, no sponge baths, no prancing around his living room with a feather-duster wearing nothing but a pink frilly apron, or any of the other million crazy scenarios I'd conjured up in my head.

I spent my few remaining hours at home saying goodbye to my cats and packing before setting off on the short drive over to Alberto's Miami villa. I'd been instructed to show up to for "orientation" with Ricardo first thing in the morning. I guess that means he's my supervisor or something. That doesn't particularly bother me. The guy seems nice enough when he doesn't have his boss pulling his strings, and I'd much rather deal with him than Alberto. That being the case, I've decided my action plan is to be as amenable as possible. Maybe I can appeal to Ricardo's better nature and get an easy ride through this. That's the idea, anyway. I really can't say how long I'll be able to fake a smile if things start to get rough.

Alberto had told me that his was the only house in the neighbourhood with a security wall topped with barbwire around it, so it's pretty easy to spot. I have to laugh when I see that the front gate is actually emblazoned with his initials. I've never seen anything so ridiculously ostentatious in my life! It's like he's one of those millionaire super-villains from a kids' cartoon. I wonder if he's got a giant vault filled with gold coins that he swims around in too. I pull up to the gate, which automatically opens to allow me entry. He must have been watching for me coming on surveillance camera or something. Hmm, creepy… I recognise a couple of Alberto's vintage cars lined up on the driveway in front of his huge Mediterranean style house. It's like something out of a vacation brochure. Palm trees, arched windows, wrought-iron balconies; the whole shebang. By the time I get out of my car, Ricardo has appeared on the front porch. He greets me with a sarcastic wave and glances at his watch.

'Hey there, rookie!' he says, his tone somewhat spiteful. 'Nice to see that you're early for your first day. I'm sure Mr Del Rio will appreciate your keenness.'

I force a polite smile as he beckons for me to follow him inside. Wow… I'm pretty sure that the lobby of this place is bigger than the entire downstairs of my house. From where I'm standing, I can see about half a dozen short hallways leading off into different rooms, as well as a wide staircase leading up to the second floor. Ricardo watches me, smirking. Maybe he's amused that I look so overwhelmed by the place.

'Leave your bags under the stairs. I've been told to give you the tour before we get to work.'

I nod, dumping my stuff. 'Fair enough. Is he here?'

He shoots me an annoyed glare. 'If by "he" you mean Mr Del Rio, then yes. He's in his den, so we'll be seeing him soon.'

Oh, goody…

Ricardo leads me around the usual rooms you'd find in a house – living room, dining room, that kind of thing. As we walk, I quickly tune out from his condescendingly obvious tour commentary. Thanks Ricardo, but I really don't need it pointed out to me that the room filled with kitchen appliances is in fact – spoiler alert - a kitchen! The house is as aesthetically pleasing inside as it is out, except that the décor of every room is uniformly lacklustre, consisting simply of wood flooring and cream walls with a few ugly paintings nailed to them. His furniture is minimalistic and equally colourless – all black leather couches and dark metal glass tables. I hate to sound like such a stereotypical gay here, but seriously - would adding in a splash of colour somewhere really kill him? Like a feature wall or even a nice tasteful rug, just to jazz things up a little? The whole house just seems so static and cold, like robots live here or something. I suppose it stands to reason though – an uninspiring house for an uninspiring man.

Further on are the less typical, more extravagant rooms. There's a game room complete with billiard and fuse-ball tables, which is once again spoiled by the same lifeless colour-scheme. Towards the back of the house is a huge area containing a fully equipped gym, a full –sized wrestling ring and a pool. I have a pool at home but only really out of necessity, since I can't use treadmills and such for cardio due to having bad knees. Mine is about a quarter the size of Alberto's though, and doesn't have an adjoining hot-tub like his either. And is that a steam room over in the far corner? I really don't understand rich people and their frivolity. So much of Alberto's stuff just strikes me as being completely unnecessary, but I guess the guy has made a name for himself by showing off his wealth. Maybe he feels like it makes up for his lack of personality. It really doesn't.

As we pass through yet another hallway, I notice a white and tabby cat perched on a windowsill. I feel a little pang of sadness, knowing that it's going to be a while before I get to see my own cats again. I can't help myself, and stop to give it some fuss. It seems grateful for the attention, rubbing its head against my hand and purring loudly. Ricardo stops to watch me, hands on hips.

'Cute cat,' I say. 'I didn't have Alberto down as an animal lover.'

'It's "Mr Del Rio", while you're under this roof,' he snaps. 'And he isn't. She's mine.'

He pushes in front of me and plucks the cat from the windowsill, holding her close to his chest.

'_¿Qué estás haciendo, _Kitty_? No está permitido en la casa, ¿recuerdas?_'

He continues muttering to the cat in Spanish as he carries her to the nearest exit. So, Alberto doesn't like animals? Wow. I've been here less than ten minutes and I've already found another reason to dislike him. When Ricardo comes back, I jump at my first chance to endear myself to him.

'She really is a lovely little thing,' I gush, smiling as sweetly as possibly. 'How old is she? About five or six?'

He seems unsure about answering me at first, but reluctantly half-smiles back. 'Eight. Nine in December.'

'Wow, she looks great for her age!' His smile grows at the compliment. 'I have four cats back at my place. And I use the term "my place" loosely,' I roll my eyes humorously. 'They pretty much own it. I'm just the sucker who pays their rent.'

Ricardo laughs. 'Yeah, I know what that's like! They're wonderful companions though, and so beautiful. I've always kept cats, ever since I was a kid.'

'Me too. I couldn't imagine life without them.'

'Me neither…' The smile suddenly fades and he looks around himself uncomfortably. 'Anyway, let's move on.'

Once again, his tone is stern. Oops. I guess he's not supposed to be being nice to me. I nod and follow his lead down the only hallway we haven't visited yet. He brings us to a halt outside a wooden door.

'This is Mr Del Rio's den,' he says, keeping his voice low. 'He spends much of his time in here and is often working, so always knock before you enter.'

Working? It didn't occur to me that Alberto did other work outside of wrestling, but I guess he's a millionaire for a reason. Ricardo knocks on the door and I hear a muffled response from within. When we enter, I'm immediately struck by how different this room looks compared to the rest of the house. I can see why he spends so much of his time in here. It's a lot cosier than the rest of the house. The walls are painted vibrant red, and are covered with various sports memorabilia. At one side of the room, a comfortable-looking brown couch covered in cushions stands in front of a coal fireplace. On the other side is a well-stock bookshelf behind a wooden desk, where the king of the castle himself is currently sat in a brown leather chair, laptop in front of him. He looks up from the screen and breaks into one of those obscenely perverse grins of his.

'Christian! _¡Bienvenido a mi casa!_ Did you sleep well?'

'Not at all, actually.' Keeping my plan in mind, I manage to conjure a pleasant smile. 'But thank you for asking…Mr Del Rio.'

Yuck. That's definitely gonna take some getting used to. I hear Ricardo snigger behind me, but Alberto seems pleasantly surprised by my formality. He rises from his chair, his eyes openly roaming across my body as he approaches.

'You poor thing.' The sarcasm practically oozes from his voice. 'The excitement must have been too much for you. I noticed that you were early to arrive. Had I known that you were so keen to work beneath me, I would have suggested this arrangement much sooner.'

Okay, my plan is already starting to look like a no-go. I'm back to fantasising about punching his lights out again. Luckily, he continues talking before my sharp tongue can betray me.

'So, what do you think of my house?'

Err…

'It's…big?'

He looks decidedly unimpressed by my observations. He doesn't seriously want me to stand here and bullshit him about how wonderful his house is, does he?

'It is indeed big. Anything else?'

I guess he does. What a douchebag. Fishing for compliments is so annoyingly unattractive.

'It's **very** big. So big in fact that one may assume that you were overcompensating for something, Mr Del Rio.'

Well…my 'amenable employee' routine didn't last very long, did it? To my surprise he actually laughs before leaning in close, his eyes locked on mine.

'Not unless "one" were to know fine well that I'm not.'

I feel my face grow hot as he winks at me. Kinda walked into that one, didn't I? As my eyes drop away from his, something colourful beneath my feet catches my attention. When I realise what it is, I step back from it in disgust.

'Please tell me this thing isn't real?'

Alberto follows my gaze to the huge tiger skin rug on the floor. It's one of those where they've kept the head attached for some gross disturbing reason. He nods, smiling so proudly that it churns my stomach.

'Beautiful, isn't it? I acquired it when I was vacationing in India about six years ago. The second I saw it, I had to have it. Doesn't it look amazing on my floor?'

'Actually, I think it would look better elsewhere. On a tiger, for example.'

He chuckles. 'Don't tell me you're one of those bleeding heart vegetarians?'

Oh, you condescending shithead! 'You don't have to be a vegetarian to find stuff like this distasteful! Do you have any idea how endangered tigers are?'

'Slightly more endangered, thanks to me.'

If I get through the month without murdering this asshole, it'll be a miracle. He notices the disdainful look I give him and offers me a patronising pat on the shoulder.

'That was just a joke, Christian.'

I shrug away from his touch. 'And you're no comedian, Mr Del Rio. You said so yourself.'

He scrutinises my face silently for a moment, then smiles as if he's watching a child doing something adorable.

'Well, as much as I'm enjoying your critique of my taste in interior design, Ricardo must finish showing you around. I'll come find you later. Then we can have some fun.'

He waves us away before returning to his desk. I clench my jaw to hold back the zillion or so offensive remarks I have in mind and head back out into the hallway. I'm not really all that passionate about the whole 'fur is murder' thing, but the fact that he was so fucking callous about it just makes my blood boil. Seriously, what an absolute dick! If the idea behind this whole ridiculous charade was for him to win me over, he's failing miserably so far. I stop and lean against a wall, taking a deep breath to cool myself down. Ricardo watches me questioningly.

'Is everything okay?'

I ignore the question, since the answer is clear. 'Are you an animal lover, Ricardo?'

'Yeah?'

'Well, doesn't it gross you out that he walks around all over that poor thing's carcass like that?'

He looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs helplessly. 'I'm not sure it really matters what I think.'

'Of course it does! You're entitled to your own opinion.'

'Not while I'm on the clock, I'm not. And if you know what's good for you, you'll learn to keep your opinions to yourself too.'

So not only am I working for Alberto, but I'm expected to agree with everything he says and does too? I don't think so.

'What's he gonna do if I question him?' I scoff. 'Cut my tongue out?'

'Perhaps.' Ricardo shrugs. 'It's best not to rile him up. He does strange things when he's upset.'

I laugh sullenly. 'Yeah, no kidding! Drawing up absurd contracts designed to entrap people into working for him is pretty damn strange.'

'Although not nearly as strange as agreeing to sign such a contract. You'd need to be _muy loco _or some kind of idiot to do something like that.'

…Touché. 'I thought we were supposed to keep our opinions to ourselves, huh?'

Ricardo doesn't reply, simply grinning obnoxiously as he wanders back into the lobby. I follow, pausing to collect my bags before heading up the staircase. The upper floor appears to be just as blandly decorated as the lower. When we reach the landing, Ricardo turns to face me.

'Now, remember to always go left at the top of the stairs,' he instructs, pointing in said direction. 'Don't go down the right hand hallway.'

'Why? Is that where you guys keep all of your other contract-signing victims locked up?'

He rolls his eyes. 'No. It's just that all of those rooms are either empty or used for storage.'

'He has rooms he doesn't even use, yet doesn't believe his house is excessively large?'

'Well, they're not gonna be empty forever. He plans to use them in the future when he has children.'

The violent double take I do at this revelation nearly snaps my neck.

'Alberto wants kids? Seriously?'

'**Mr Del Rio** wants kids eventually, yes.' Ricardo frowns. 'Why is that so surprising?'

'He just seems a little too…' I rack my brain for the least most offensive word I can think of. '…self-involved to be a parent.'

'Self-involved?' he snorts. 'That's rich, coming from you.'

Woah! 'What the hell is that supposed to mean? Look, I know Alberto's your boss and everything, but it's pretty crazy that you're so defensive of someone who treats you like shit most of the time.'

'That's my point right there! You think you've got him all worked out, but you even don't know what you're talking about. You think that he's this horrible person, but he just…isn't, okay? He isn't what you think he is.'

Yeah, that was kinda my problem in the first place… 'Sorry, but I'm not so sure a character reference from his whipping boy is gonna convince me.'

'He isn't!' Ricardo growls. 'I know he doesn't seem it on the outside, but he truly has a very kind heart! He's always said that the first thing he plans to do when he retires is adopt a child to raise as his own, or maybe two or three! I know he comes over as very extravagant and proud, but his ultimate desire in life is simple and good - just to have a comfortable happy life raising a little family with someone he…'

His impassioned little speech abruptly screeches to a halt. The aggravation in his face morphs into nervousness, his eyes wide and his bottom lip quivering.

'_¡Olvídalo!_ I've said way, way too much! Please, forget about what I said! I'm not even supposed to get involved… Let's just move on!'

He turns and dashes down the hallway, and I hesitantly start after him. I'm a little stunned by what I just heard. Remind me never to tell Ricardo any secrets - the guy sings like a canary under next to no pressure! That is, assuming what he's saying is true. I hope he wasn't implying that Alberto has me in mind to play "Mommy" for him! If he's somehow under the impression that I'm good with children, I honestly don't know how. I rarely have anything to do with kids, unless it's signing autographs for them. Ricardo stops again at the end of the hallway in front of three doors. He looks flushed and tense. He's probably terrified I'll spill to Alberto about his little outburst. I think I'll keep that little gem to myself for now. Maybe I'll just casually drop the fact that I hate kids into conversation with Alberto one day. I don't – in fact, I wouldn't mind kids of my own someday, but he doesn't know that. Maybe it'll be a big enough deal-breaker for him that he'll finally leave me alone. Ricardo shakily opens one of the doors and gestures for me to enter.

'This is your room here. I'm across from you, and Mr Del Rio's room is the one at the end of the hall.'

I wonder if Alberto's bedroom is as tailored to his personal tastes as his den. Not that I ever intend on finding out. My own room is simple but comfortable. I have a nice large bed and my own bathroom, which is all I really need. There's also a dresser, upon which lies a maroon-coloured shirt with Alberto's initials in fancy white print on the chest. A name tag is already pinned to the top left corner, reading 'CHRISTIAN – Mr Del Rio's Personal Employee'. You know, for someone so dastardly and power-hungry, he's not particularly creative about it. Had the situation been reversed, I definitely would have gone with 'Personal Bitch'.

'That's your uniform,' Ricardo explains – again, rather needlessly. 'Mr Del Rio seemed sure it would fit you just fine. I've printed a map of the house for you, as it's pretty easy to get lost when you're new. Oh, and Mr Del Rio wants me to add you to payroll today, so if you can let me know your-'

'Don't bother,' I say, more abruptly than I mean to. 'The contract said nothing about payment and even if it did, I don't want his money.'

Ricardo looks confused. 'But…you're his employee. He doesn't expect you to work for nothing.'

'He can expect whatever he wants. I'm not taking a penny from him. I accepted the stupid bet and lost, so I'll take my punishment and do my time. That's it. End of story.'

'He won't want to do that though. He won't like it. He's bound to insist.'

I flop down onto my bed with a loud sigh. 'Then tell him if throwing money at something will make him feel better, he can take whatever he was planning to give me and donate it to an animal charity. It's the least he can do to make up for that monstrosity on his den floor. Okay?'

Ricardo nods, seeming oddly satisfied with this compromise. I'm not so sure his boss will be, but I don't especially care.

'I'll pass the message on. Anyway, I'll let you get changed and unpack and stuff. Come find me when you're ready. I'll be out back on the porch.'

'And so begins my first day of servitude, huh?'

'If I were you, I wouldn't worry too much,' he smiles, a little awkwardly. 'Mr Del Rio's bound to take it easy on you. He cares for you, in his own weird way.'

I roll my eyes. 'Sure he does. I always make the people I care for into my slaves too.'

Ricardo pouts at my sarcasm. 'Well, you **did** kinda hurt his feelings when you…' He slaps a hand across his mouth, looking annoyed with himself for nearly spilling even more beans. '_Mierda!_ I'm talking too much again! _Lo siento!_ I'll see you downstairs, okay?'

With that, he stumbles backwards out of the door and slams it behind him. And here I was, thinking he'd be the easier one to deal with! He's one strange kid, and nearly as duplicitous as his boss, it would seem. However, at least he provided me with a few morsels of useful information. I assume he was just about to tell me how much I hurt Alberto's feelings when I told him I wasn't interested in getting romantically involved with a snobby rich jackass. That's probably true – Alberto didn't look too impressed when I turned him down. But be that as it may, he still hurt me first. I'm just not butt-hurt enough by it to carry out such elaborate forms of revenge. Speaking of which… I reach over to the dresser and pull the ugly uniform shirt into my lap.

It looks like day one of twenty-eight has officially begun. Let's get this over with.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Author notes: Sorry if this was a little more slow-paced and wordy than the previous chapters. I felt it was necessary both to set the scene and to lay down groundwork for significant events in later chapters. Anyway, in Chapter 6 we'll see how Christian's 'first day of servitude' pans out, and how he copes with following Alberto's orders. Thanks for reading, and I'd be most grateful if you'd drop me a quick review and let me know what you think. See you next chapter!


	6. The Fire

Author notes: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read the story so far, especially to those that have reviewed/followed, etc. Much appreciated, as always! This chapter is another long one and ended up being very different to how I originally planned it to be… See what you think! Apologies in advance for any typos/badly-written bits - I go through bad spells of insomnia every now and then, and sometimes a tired writer is a bad one. Enjoy!

**Chapter 6 – The Fire**

After thoroughly combing my room for hidden cameras, I quickly freshened up and changed into my uniform shirt. It was a little tight and definitely not my colour, but I guess it could have been worse. By the time I made my way downstairs and out back, Alberto still hadn't appeared. So I decided to help Ricardo with whatever he was doing for the time being. His first task of the day was a surprisingly easy and familiar one – planning the travel arrangements for that following month's shows. Something I can pretty much do with my eyes closed after sixteen years in the business.

After nearly an hour of sitting at a patio table with Ricardo route-planning on a laptop, Alberto finally joins us. He's dressed in an immaculate cream suit, which seems a little overly formal for just hanging about the house for my tastes. I doubt it's a special effort on my account - I bet he doesn't even own a simple pair of jeans or a t-shirt. I guess that's one nice thing about him. He has pride in his appearance and always looks nothing short of flawless. Looks can be deceiving though… I try to look unimpressed as he saunters over, grinning like an idiot. He's clearly pleased to see us hard at work for him.

'Well, now…' He places a hand on each of our shoulders. 'How is my new employee getting on so far?'

'Fine, _el patrón_. We're almost finished booking travel and accommodation for the next few weeks.'

Even though Ricardo answered him, Alberto refuses to take his eyes off me. I hate it when he does that. He takes a pinch of my shirt sleeve between his finger and thumb, lightly caressing the material. I don't know why - it's a simple polyester shirt. Is there any need for him to be touching me? God, he's creepy.

'I see that you're wearing the uniform I ordered for you. Let me see it.'

He gestures for me to stand in front of him, which I reluctantly do. He surveys my upper body intently then shakes his head, clearly faking severe disappointment.

'I believe I may have grossly misjudged how the colour would look on you,' he sighs dramatically. 'It's all wrong. Not at all to my liking. Take it off.'

For once, I agree with him. 'Sure thing, "_eel part-rone_".'

Ricardo snorts at my lazy attempt at Spanish as I turn to go back inside the house. I'm stopped by Alberto's hand on my forearm. I shoot him a look that says I'm not too happy about his touchy-feely ways, but he either doesn't notice or ignores it.

'Where are you going?'

Huh? Where does he think I'm going? I'm following his damn orders. I might not speak Spanish, but my understanding of English is just fine.

'You just asked me to change my shirt.'

'No, I asked you to take it off.'

I look at him blankly for a second and half-laugh. 'What are you saying, that you want me to strip for you?'

'I believe it's a reasonable enough request.'

He must be joking! Who am I kidding? Of course he's not! 'You seriously think asking me to work topless is reasonable?'

He shrugs. 'Why not? You usually work topless.'

'Yeah, in the ring!' I say sharply, tugging my arm out of his grasp. 'Not to satisfy the voyeuristic desires of some spoiled rich jackass who can't take a hint!'

His face darkens at that. 'You know something, Christian? You have an attitude. People who work for me don't give me attitude.'

'Even when you're sexually harassing them?'

He actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at me. 'Don't be so hysterical. I'm merely asking you to remove an aesthetically displeasing shirt.'

'The shirt isn't inhibiting my ability to work. Who cares what it looks like?'

'I do! It's offensive to me.'

'Well, **you're** offensive to **me**! Remove yourself!'

He looks angry as hell now. I realise that I'm probably digging myself into an increasingly deeper hole here, but I don't care. He's a gross lecherous pig. I wouldn't take this shirt off in front of him if it was on fucking fire! He stops glowering at me long enough to turn to Ricardo.

'_Mi amigo_, I'm confident you can handle the rest of the bookings on your own. Have we anything more fitting for my new employee to do?'

Ricardo looks back and forth between myself and Alberto, breaking into a mischievous grin.

'_¿Qué pasa con los perros, el patrón?_'

'Ah, yes! Perfect!' Alberto claps his hands together and smirks gleefully at me. 'You like unsightly things so much, Christian? Then I have just the task for you. Go around the front of the house to the kennel blocks. I'm sure my guard dogs will have left some unsightly gifts for you to clean up.'

He winks and gestures for me to leave, looking extremely pleased with himself. I try not to smile as I walk away. Does he really consider this to be an effective punishment for me? If so, it pretty much proves that he just doesn't know me at all. I'm definitely a cat person, but dogs are great too. Adam owns about half a dozen of them, and I'm more than accustomed to dealing with their mess. Besides, I'd rather clean up a million mounds of dog-shit using nothing but my tongue than spend a moment more with that smug pervy freak.

The kennel block consists of a generous mesh-fence enclosure with an adjoining hut-type building. As soon as I approach it, I'm greeted at the gate by two huge barking German Shepherds. Sure enough, there are numerous dog-turds on the ground – that is, the ground** inside** the enclosure. Behind said huge barking guard dogs. I don't think these guys will take too kindly to a stranger just waltzing in, so I take a look around for something to distract them with. I find a little cubbyhole on one side of the hut, filled with feeding and cleaning equipment. There's a feeding schedule pinned to the wall and as luck would have it, the dogs are due their morning meal. Perfect - that should get off on the right foot with them. As soon as the sound of kibble-on-dish fills the air, the barking stops. When I go back to the gate, both of them are sat quietly staring at me.

'Hey, you guys hungry?' I ask in the silly voice I usually reserve for baby-talking my cats. 'You can have this food if you promise not to eat **me**, okay?'

I rattle the dishes demonstratively, and am rewarded with wagging tails and excited whimpering. I stay on the side of caution as I enter the enclosure, moving slowly as they wait patiently for their food. The second the dishes touch the ground, they dive right in and pay me no mind. Happy that they're preoccupied, I get to work cleaning up. When I'm almost done, something brushes against my leg. One of the dogs is stood beside me, wagging its tail. It doesn't look like it's about to savage me, so I relax and smile gently.

'Well, hey there! Did you enjoy your breakfast?'

It responds by excitedly spinning around in a circle. Great guard dogs, Alberto. What are they gonna do, lick an intruder to death? He'd be better off with Kitty guarding his house.

I decide to give the enclosure a thorough cleanout while I'm here, and entertain myself by chatting merrily to the dogs much like I do my cats when I'm doing chores at home. I manage to find out their names by sneaking glances at their collars – _Lobo_ and _Aullido_. Cute. I bet Ricardo named them. Alberto probably just regards them as "Dog 1" and "Dog 2".

Just as I'm about to leave, Lobo drops a toy at my feet and looks up at me expectantly. I allow myself to smile genuinely for the first time since I arrived. If I get given dog duty every day, I might just get some enjoyment out this "employee" ridiculousness after all. I'd much rather spend my time with these two slobbering beasts than the one that's waiting for me back at the house. We play for a while until I notice Aullido staring off into the distance. She's noticed Alberto approaching and doesn't look particularly happy to see him. I know how she feels.

'I was starting to worry that you'd been eaten alive,' he calls out as he gets closer. 'What exactly are you doing in there that's taking so long?'

'Just savouring the fact that you have animals here that haven't been skinned and thrown on your floor.'

He smiles wryly. 'Very funny. Seriously, why are you still here?' I hold Lobo's toy up so Alberto can see it. He narrows his eyes at me. 'You're playing with them? I instructed you to clean, not play.'

'Look around you, Mr Del Rio. I **have** cleaned for you. Now, as an added bonus, I'm entertaining your dogs. You're welcome.'

He looks at me like I'm stupid and shakes his head. 'They're animals! They don't require entertainment. Now come out of there.'

The second his hand reaches towards the gate handle, Aullido snarls and lunges at the fence. Alberto curses loudly and stumbles back, tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass in the dirt. I try really hard not to laugh, but I can't help it.

'You know, you probably should have gone with a Rottweiler,' I snigger. 'These guys are total pussycats.'

He's quick to get back up, brushing the filth from his no-longer pristine cream suit. His face is flushed red, apparently more from anger than embarrassment. He glares at Lobo, who is now puppyishly pouncing on his toy.

'What have you done to them?' he pretty much screeches. 'These animals are supposed to be aggressive!'

'Yet you sent me over here to deal with them anyway?' I laugh derisively. 'Wow! You're a hell of a boss, Mr Del Rio! You've already manage to squeeze in sexual harassment **and** reckless endangerment, and I've only been on the job less than two hours!'

'I wasn't trying to endanger you!' he growls. 'I didn't think they'd even allow you beyond the door! I've never been able to get near them!'

'Well, maybe they just don't like **you**.' I roll my eyes. 'Though I can't imagine why!'

He visibly bristles at my sarcasm, gritting his teeth as he points down at the ground beside him. 'Come out here, now!'

As if on cue, Aullido positions herself between me and the gate, still glaring and grumbling under her breath at Alberto. How ironic is it that the dogs that are employed to protect him seem to want nothing more than to tear him a new asshole? I look up at him and shrug feebly.

'Sorry, Mr Del Rio. Looks like my exit is blocked.'

'Then unblock it!' he snaps. 'Move her out of the way!'

I let out a theatrical gasp. 'Oh! I can't possibly do that, Mr Del Rio! They're aggressive animals, right? And you just said you don't want to endanger me, so I guess I'm stuck here until the coast is clear…' I smirk cockily. 'Unless you feel like coming in and rescuing me, that is?'

He eyes the dogs warily, his shoulders heaving as he takes shallow erratic breaths. I swear there's a vein about the size of a baby's arm protruding from his forehead right now. When he finally realises there's nothing he can do to regain control, he cries out and stamps his foot like a frustrated five year old having a tantrum. Amazing! Where's a video camera when you need one? The amused look on my face seems to piss him off even more and he points at me dramatically, eyes wide and wild.

'Listen to me, _naco ignorante_! You peasant! If you're not out of there and back at Ricardo's side in five minute's time, I'll-'

'You'll do what, exactly? Order me to take off my pants and clean out your piranha tank?'

'I have no piranha tank!'

Great answer! 'Well, maybe you can pick one up on your way to the drycleaners, huh?' I nod at his sullied suit. 'Better hurry, Mr Del Rio. Mud stains are a bitch to get out.'

I mimic that awful wink of his and wave him away mockingly. His penetrating stare stays trained on me for a ridiculously long time after. He seems almost spaced out, like he's in deep contemplation over something. I'm a bit freaked out when the anger suddenly seems to leave his face completely, and his indignant frown morphs into an ominous 'I-know-something-you-don't' sort of smile. It actually sends shivers down my spine. I feel pretty relieved when he finally turns and stalks away. I lean forward and give Aullido an affection rub behind the ears. Well, that was a fun way to fill in five minutes. It's quite likely that Alberto's going to make my life a misery after this, but it was kind of worth it just to see how hilarious he is when he's not getting what he wants. I'm kinda glad he doesn't have a piranha tank though. Judging by the mood I've put him in, he'd probably toss me headfirst into it if he did. I pick up Lobo's toy again and fling it into the air so he can catch it.

I have to be out of here in five minutes or else, huh? What a shame I'm not wearing a watch.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

After I finally emerged from the kennels, I spent the remainder of a relatively pain-free day carrying out menial household chores with Ricardo. I saw a lot less of Alberto than I thought I would, which was a welcome surprise. I thought I'd be in all kinds of shit for disobeying him and was fully prepared for an act of retribution, but he seemed to just disappear back into his den and let me carry on through the rest of my day in peace. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been busy researching the quickest way to acquire a shoal of piranha. Elaborate acts of revenge seem to be his calling card, after all.

Spending time with Ricardo was…odd. He seems to switch back and forth between being either really chatty or totally silent. When he did talk to me, none of his questions seemed particularly personal and he rarely mentioned Alberto, so I don't get the impression that he's been asked to probe me for information. In an attempt to revert back to my original plan, I was as nice as I could be to him, and he seemed to warm to me more as the day went on. However, something I've been wondering about is what his intentions were by suggesting that Alberto send me to the kennels this morning. At first I thought he was doing me a favour since I'd made it clear to him how much I like animals, but then surely he knew there was a good chance that the so-called 'aggressive animals' could have reacted badly to me? Did he mean for me to get hurt? I really don't know. It's probably best if I don't think about it too much. The last thing I need is the weirdo behaviour of yet another seemingly-bipolar Latino to worry about. All I know for sure is that I definitely don't trust him.

Having force-fed myself a small evening meal despite my lacking appetite, I started to feel the effects of sleep deprivation catching up to me. According to Ricardo, all our work for today is done but I suppose I'd better find him and ask if I can be excused, just to be on the safe side. He's easy enough to track down – I find him sitting on the couch in the living room, murmuring softly. At first I think he's talking to himself, but then I spot Kitty curled up on his lap. That's weird – I'm sure he told me earlier that Alberto didn't allow Kitty to be anywhere in the house other than Ricardo's room. Oh, well. None of my business, I guess. I catch his eye and flash him a tired smile.

'Mind if I hit the hay now, Ricardo?'

'Actually, Mr Del Rio wanted to see you in his den before you went to bed.'

Damn! I knew it was too good to be true. I told that bastard this morning that I hadn't slept – I'd care to bet that he's cooked up some long horrible task to keep me working on through the night. I manage to navigate my way to the colourful room I visited this morning. The door is wide open when I get there, so I don't knock. It's rather dark inside, the only light being that from the desk-lamp and the fireplace. Alberto is sat on his couch with a book in his hand, though I don't get how he can possibly be reading in such poor light. As soon as he sees me, he sets his book down and smiles brightly. Okay, this is freaky. After what went down earlier, I was half-expecting him to jump out at me wielding a machete and turn me into his latest rug. I certainly wasn't expecting him to be sitting quietly beaming his face off at me.

'_Buenas noches_, Christian.'

His voice certainly doesn't betray his appearance - soft and calm. I'm actually a little bit scared now.

'Err…Ricardo said you wanted to see me?'

He nods and gestures for me to sit beside him. I almost tell him I'd feel more comfortable standing, but I decide not to push my luck. For whatever reason, he doesn't look like he wants to strangle me anymore and I'm probably better off keeping it that way. I cautiously sit down on the opposite end of the couch. He regards my no-doubt inquisitive face with slight amusement before speaking.

'How did your first day go?'

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? _"Well, I managed to evade your busy hands and survived your attempt at feeding me to your dogs, so that's a pretty successful first day in my book!"_ Not sure that'll go down too well…

'Err…I'm not sure. You're the boss, you tell me.'

'Well, Ricardo tells me that you're very driven and easy to work with, which I'm pleased to hear. Although you were rather…insubordinate earlier, I suppose I can overlook it this once. It was only your first day, after all.'

I nod, trying to look nonchalant, but the truth is I'm absolutely blown away by how composed he is. "Insubordinate" is putting it very mildly. He can sugar-coat it all he wants, but he can't deny that the way I acted at the kennels made him fucking furious. And now, he's just smiling away at me like nothing ever happened! Does he get turned on by guys that intensely piss him off or something? Maybe it's some kind of reverse psychology thing - like the worse I behave, the more he'll pretend not to care. Or maybe, and far more likely, he's just completely bat-shit insane.

He's back to his old habit of silently staring at me again. Does he want some sort of feedback on his comments? I hope not, because I really don't know what to say. For lack of anything better to do, I glance around the room and suddenly get the feeling that something's out of place. It's an odd feeling for me to have, considering I've only ever been in this room once before, but I'm not imagining it. Something's different about this room from when I saw it earlier… When I finally realise what it is, I don't understand how I didn't notice it sooner. I glance back at Alberto.

'Where'd your rug go?'

He smiles wider, as if he was waiting for me to notice. 'I had it disposed of. It wasn't to my liking anymore.'

Just like that? After gushing about how much he loved it this morning? Rich people are crazy. He's looking at me expectantly again. Does he want to know what I think? Why? According to Ricardo, nobody else's opinion matters to Alberto. He's still looking. Okay, fine…

'That was probably a good choice. It looked tacky.'

'So it makes you happy that I chose to get rid of it then?'

What does it matter if it makes me happy? Is he implying that he did this for my benefit?

'Well…it's not like getting rid of it's going to bring the tiger back to life.'

'But simply looking at it offended you. It made you uncomfortable, correct? Well, it's gone now.'

He nods emphatically towards the empty space on his floor. Well…it's a unique gesture, I'll give him that. I can't say I've ever had a guy throw away an expensive imported rug in my honour before.

'Err…thanks, I guess. But…it's kind of futile as a good deed if you can't appreciate why I felt so strongly about it in the first place.'

'Actually, I think I do. It's clear to me that you care for animals, so much so that it hurt you to see the skin of one on my floor. Out of respect to you, I've removed it. You'll never need to set eyes on it again.'

As he's talking, something occurs to me. 'Is that why Kitty is suddenly allowed in the house now too?'

'"_Kitty"_? That's the flea-bag's name?' He chuckles, shaking his head. 'Ricardo tells me you have four furballs of your own at home. I thought that having one around here might make your stay more bearable.'

Since when was making things bearable for me a priority? Surely the idea of making me his slave for the month is to make my stay as **un**bearable as possible? I thought this was meant to be his grand revenge on me for turning him down? The kind smile and tender looks he's casting my way would indicate the contrary though.

'Look, I get what you're trying to do. But it's your house. You don't need to change stuff and pretend that you suddenly like animals just for my sake.'

He shakes his head. 'You misunderstand, _mi amor_. I'm not pretending anything. I don't pretend to understand why you have such a liking for keeping beasts in your home. Nor do I claim to understand why you would offer so much concern and reverence to life-forms that are so much lower in both intellect and relative worth than yourself. But I'd like to learn to understand.' He leans towards me, his dark eyes glistening as they catch the glow of the fire. 'I'm an open-minded man, Christian. I have no objection to altering my lifestyle or behaviour in order to inspire happiness in somebody I care so deeply for.'

He shuffles closer to me, close enough that our shoulders are touching. The combination of the roaring fire and his body-heat beside me is enough to make my head start to swim. He reaches for my hand. I don't know why I allow him to take it, but I do. I feel my heart rise up into my throat and find I need to look away from him.

'I…' My voice is hoarse, barely capable of a whisper. 'I honestly don't know how to feel about all this…'

'That's hardly surprising,' he replies, somewhat bitterly. 'You never seem to know how you feel, do you? Especially not where I'm concerned.'

I want to deny it, to tell him that I'm confident in my hatred for him and that the very sight of him makes me feel physically ill. But I can't bring myself to say such words. I can feel that his eyes are still fixed on me. I don't want to look back at him, but can't seem to stop myself. He cups my cheek in his free hand, bringing his face closer to mine as if he's searching it for answers.

'I wish you knew how you felt though,' he breathes. 'I wish you would tell me what I can do, what I can change so that you might show the same kindness for me as you do for those beasts.'

'Alberto…'

'I only wish to understand you, Christian. To understand myself, and what we could be together. Don't you wish to understand too?'

Deep in the darkest recesses of my heart, I really do. There's always going to be a part of me that wants nothing more than to understand why I can't meet his eyes without feeling like I'm about to burst into flames, or why kissing him for the first time made me feel so safe and invincible, or why it hurt so much to know that he'd kept who he truly was hidden from me for so long. But it's simply too late to explore questions like that now. The damage has been done. I swore to myself years ago that I'd never involve myself with another liar ever again, and I don't plan on changing my mind. I refuse to set myself up for another fall like that. My heart won't take it. I just want to move on from this, but how can I when he won't let me? Why is he doing this? Why is he so persistent?

Alberto's focus gradually drops to my mouth and he starts to lean in. A fearful voice screams from behind the cloud of senseless longing in my mind, waking me up to reality. What the hell am I doing? I've let this go way too far already. I draw back, tearing my hand away from his. I try to move from the couch but he catches my arm, pulling me back around to face him. His eyes are like a lost child's now, forlorn and pleading. Before they can suck me in again, I roughly pull free from him and scramble to my feet. Even in such dim lighting, the hurt in his face is plain to see. I can't look at him anymore, instead directing my focus on the twisting flames in the fireplace.

'I'm really tired, Mr Del Rio,' I say robotically. 'If there's nothing else you want from me tonight, I'd like to go to bed.'

I shudder, suddenly realising how cold I am despite so much warmth filling the room. I hear a deep sigh and see Alberto nod out of the corner of my eye. I turn and leave quickly, and don't slow my pace until I reach my room. I throw myself down onto the bed, kneading my temples to soothe my throbbing head. I'm still trembling. I feel like I'm in shock. I knew he'd make some sort of pass at me at some point during this fiasco, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. Or for it to be so intense…

Alberto said he wanted to know what to do to make me show him kindness. A little consistency would be a start. I feel like I'm on a never-ending rollercoaster when it comes to him! One minute he's ordering me to strip off and clean up dog shit, and the next he's throwing away rugs and letting cats run around his house because he thinks it'll make me happy! Once again, the arrogant dickhead who was so mad at me earlier acts so differently to the sensitive romantic charmer I just dealt with. Is he actually mentally ill, or just deliberately trying to fuck with my head here? Or maybe he's as genuinely confused about things as I am…

I'm way too tired to think about this logically now. I need some sleep. This seemingly easy first day has ended up being tougher than I thought. It doesn't bode well.

This is going to be the longest month of my life.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Author notes: If you've made it this far, well done. I hope the funny bits weren't too over-played and the sappy stuff wasn't too lame. In next chapter, Christian finds out a few secrets about Alberto and thinks about some of his own secrets too. Just to forewarn you guys, I'm starting my second year of university next week. This is obviously going to impact on my writing time, and although I will still do my damnedest to update at least once a week, I may not always be able to if uni work is stealing all my time. I'm determined not to put this story on hiatus as I'm really enjoying writing it, but if my updates start to slow down, you'll know why. Thanks again for reading, guys and gals (mostly gals, I'm assuming!). Drop me a review if you fancy it. See you next chapter!


	7. The Roses

Author notes: Sorry it's been so long, guys. Things have been manic, so thank you for your patience and support in the form of your messages, reviews, etc. On a positive note (depending on your point of view), this chapter is really fucking long – like 8,500 words long – so you've got plenty to read. Enjoy!

**Chapter 7 – The Roses**

I'm awake long before my six-thirty alarm sounds. Despite being so damn tired, I barely slept. My stupid brain just wouldn't let me switch off from what happened in the den, so I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, thinking. I've decided that Alberto's behaviour last night pretty much confirms Ricardo's idea that he's hurt by my rejection, which I guess goes some way towards explaining his constantly changing behaviour. I know only too well that emotional pain can make people act in crazy ways. On one hand, he wants to get back at me for blowing him off - for lack of a better phrase. But on the other, he still wants me and seems desperate for me to feel the same. But is it actually his heart that's aching, or just his pride? I mean, let's face it - he's the kind of man who's used to getting exactly what he wants, whenever he wants it. Maybe he just can't fathom why a simple commoner like me wouldn't immediately fall at the pedicured Italian leather-encased feet of the great Alberto Del Rio.

Telling him "no" just seems to make him more determined. Is that the real reason he's so interested in me – because I'm something he can't have and his ego can't stand it? It's not like I'm the love of his life or anything. We've never even dated, technically. We had sex once and he wrote to me a few times - he couldn't have possibly fallen **that** hard for me based on so little! I fail to see what he finds so great about me that he'd want to go to all this effort. I mean, I guess I'm okay looking for my age and I would consider myself a pretty nice guy, but I'm nothing special. Why is he so into me? Call me cynical, but it's almost as if he has something to prove to himself. Perhaps I should just give in and sleep with him one more time. Maybe it'll satisfy his self-esteem enough to finally make him leave me alone. But what if I'm wrong and it has the opposite effect? He may be a pain in my ass, but I still don't want to risk hurting him anymore more than I already have. And I definitely don't want to risk encouraging him to become an even bigger pain in my ass!

I kept thinking about how he said that he was happy to change stuff in order to appease me, to better understand me. But surely he can learn to understand me without feeling the need to change anything? I'm sure he probably intended it to sound sweet or something, but saying shit like _"Oh, you morally object to my rug? Well, consider it gone!"_ strikes me as pretty fucking insane. And isn't changing things about yourself to make someone like you better kind of dishonest? Is that the big idea behind this whole charade; for him to learn what makes me tick so that he can slowly transform himself into my perfect man? I know he said last night that he was merely altering elements of his lifestyle, that it wasn't his intention to pretend to be something he wasn't. But given our history, I'm not so sure that I can believe him…

Damn it, I'm starting to get a headache over this again. I rise from bed and head to the bathroom, intent on showering my troubles away if only for a little while. Half an hour later, I'm dressed and as ready as I'll ever be to face Day 2. I take a deep breath and step out into the hallway. Hopefully, Ricardo will keep me nice and busy today and I won't need to see-

'_Buenos días_, Christian.'

Alberto's voice comes from out of nowhere, and it damn near scares the shit out of me! Nice one, jackass! You almost had a Christian-shaped hole in your ceiling! How long has he been creeping around outside my door? I try not to look directly at him, but as usual I find it difficult not to. He's looking exceptionally sharp for first thing in the morning, suited and booted as always. The heartbroken look on his face the last time I saw him has been replaced by his usual easy grin, thank God. Hopefully this won't be too awkward…

'Did you sleep well?' he asks.

'Not particularly.' No point in lying, I guess.

'That's unfortunate. Perhaps there was something on your mind?'

I half-glare at him. I'm so not in the mood for sarcasm this morning. 'Is there something I can do for you, Mr Del Rio?'

He looks rather sheepish for a split second before moving closer to me. He starts to reach out to touch my shoulder, but then thinks better of it and casually slips his hand into his jacket pocket instead. Good. I'm not in the mood for touchy-feely-ness either.

'I wanted to apologise for my forward behaviour last night.' He says softly. 'It wasn't my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm a passionate man, and sometimes my emotions get the better of me. Clearly, I handled the situation poorly. It won't happen again.'

I'm not sure I believe him, but at least he's acknowledging the inappropriateness of it all. 'Okay, fine. Does this mean you're done hitting on me then?'

He laughs like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. 'Don't be silly! I merely intend to change my strategy.'

'A change of strategy, huh? Might I suggest taking no for an answer, giving up and moving on with your life?'

I'm blatantly not joking, but he laughs again anyway. 'I don't think that's a very good strategy, Christian. And if truth be told, neither do you.'

'What would you know about what I think?'

He looks a little surprised by my snippiness. What can I say? I'm not a morning person.

'I'd be happy to know everything, if you were willing to tell me...'

His voice has dropped to a low whisper. I hate it when he talks like that. If the sensation of touching expensive silk had a sound, his voice would be it. And it gives me the chills… Stop staring at me, damn it! I direct my eyes away from him, down the hall towards the stairs. I briefly consider running for it and hurling myself over the stair rail. Knowing my luck though, I'd probably only knock myself out and give him the perfect opportunity to perform mouth-to-mouth on me.

'If I'd spent my life taking no for an answer, I wouldn't be the man I am today,' he purrs, his voice still tingling my spine. 'I've told you before, Christian. I never just give up. Especially not when fighting for such a valuable prize.'

I feel my temper spike at that, turning back to glare at him. 'I'm not a prize, you obnoxious prick!'

As always, he seems amused by my outburst. '_Lo siento._ It was a figure of speech, _mi amor_.'

'And stop calling me that! I know what it means!'

He smirks at me, almost in challenge. '_Eres un persona muy hermosa.__Cuando estoy contigo… estoy más feliz.'_

Oh, shit… the huskiness that takes over his voice when he speaks Spanish makes it sound even silkier. Like high grade, top quality, super expensive silk. And for some sick reason, I actually feel a little turned on by it. I feel blood rush to my face, and pray to God that that's the only place it's planning on rushing to. Pull yourself together, Christian! You're a grown man, and here you are blushing and swooning like some stupid teenage girl! Hopefully, he hasn't noticed…nope, he blatantly has. Fucking hell! Where's that stair rail at? I've changed my mind about jumping.

'Does it…trouble you when I speak in my native tongue?'

That's one way of putting it... I try to shrug it off. 'What you do with your tongue isn't my concern. Just bear in mind that I can't understand what you're saying.'

He looks me over and licks his lips subtly. Look at that grin! The bastard knows fine well what he's doing to me.

'Well, maybe you'll let me teach you one day. Come.'

Mercifully, he saunters off towards the stairs, gesturing for me to follow. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. I half expected him to start serenading me with Enrique Iglesias's back catalogue. Shit, can you imagine how much trouble I'd be in if he did? That dumb plan of giving in and letting him sleep with me would look more and more tempting by the second... I follow as requested, keeping my distance from him as we descend the stairs. Just as we're about to reach the ground floor, I hear the sound of light footsteps running through the house. A little Hispanic girl in a lilac dress comes charging into the lobby and launches herself at Alberto. He laughs and gladly receives her, scooping her up into his arms and lifting her up high. Okay… a kid. This is new. Where the hell did she come from? I'm pretty sure she's not Ricardo's. Alberto seems very familiar with her though. Maybe she's his niece or something? The little girl wraps her arms around Alberto's neck, hugging him tightly.

'_Buenos días, mi tio_!'

'Gabriela, _mi princesa_! Where is your mother?'

'She's talking to _mi primo_ Ricardo in the kitchen…' She trails off, noticing me. She stares at me for a moment before whispering to Alberto. '_Hay un hombre en la sala…_'

'Ah, _si_.' He brings her over to me, the most brilliant smile on his face. 'Gabriela, this is Christian.'

She stays silent, her eyes studying my face. She's clearly nervous - I see it all the time when I'm meeting young fans. I give her my kindest smile and extend my hand towards her.

'Hi, Gabriela. It's nice to meet you.'

She looks between my outstretched hand and Alberto. When he nods at her, she gingerly grips my fingers in her little hand.

'Hi,' she says quietly. 'I'm five.'

'Wow, five? You're an old lady, huh?'

She turns to bury her face against Alberto's neck and giggles. When she looks back at me, she seems a little less reserved. 'Are you _mi tio_'s friend, Christian?'

'Err…sort of. We have a special deal. I'm working for him for a while.'

'Special?' She looks thoughtful for a second, then smiles brightly. 'Oh! You're _mi tio's_ **special** friend?'

'Huh? No!' I squeak, my voice stupidly high-pitched. 'No, I'm not!'

I'm sure she didn't mean it like it sounded - kids say the darnedest things and what have you. But it was still enough to make me blush. Again! And of course, Alberto notices and starts grinning like a lunatic. Again!

'Ah now, don't be modest. You're a **very** special friend of mine.' He winks at me, then looks at Gabriela. 'You know how you and your friends at home play games together, _princesa_? Well, Christian played a game with me and I won. And he agreed to be my prize. Isn't that right, Christian?'

Son of a… He's so lucky he's holding a child right now! Before I can dream up a semi-civilised reply, Gabriela suddenly wriggles free from Alberto and dashes across the lobby to one of the doorways. She throws her arms around the legs of a stout Latino lady who enters the room with Ricardo. She's an older lady, probably in her fifties or so, and is dressed in a modest ankle-length housemaid's tunic. I follow Alberto over to her.

'This is Mariana, Gabriela's mother. She's my head housekeeper.'

Ah, now things are starting to make sense! I'm still a little surprised though. I didn't think Alberto would be the type of employer to have a 'bring your kid to work' day, although I guess maybe his keenness to have children might have something to do with it. Again, I offer a handshake to the new face, and it's cheerfully accepted.

'Pleased to meet you,' I say.

'The pleasure's all mine, Christian.' Mariana beams at me. 'How wonderful to finally be able to put a face to your name. You're every bit as attractive as _Señor_ Del Rio described.'

My eyebrow quirks at that. Interesting… I glance over at Alberto, who for once actually looks a little flustered. Mariana and Ricardo both seem pretty entertained by their boss's faltering smirk and pink-tinged cheeks, though they're not as open about their amusement as I am.

'Oh, really?' I chuckle. 'I hope he pays you extra when you have to listen to him talk about things like that.'

Before she can reply, Alberto steps between us, clearing his throat pointedly. 'I believe we're keeping you from your work, Mariana. Christian, why don't you go to the kitchen and take your breakfast? We all have a busy day ahead.'

He claps his hands and gestures for us to scatter to the four winds. I think Mariana and I will need to have a chat later. I'm a little curious to know exactly what Alberto has told her about me. Or **why** he would tell her, for that matter. I get why he'd talk to Ricardo about me – Ricardo actually knows me. But does he really randomly tell all of his 'help' about the guys he likes? I also don't get why he looked so embarrassed about it – it's not as if his feelings for me are a secret and he has no trouble complimenting me to my face. Maybe he's concerned that finding out that he talks about me behind my back will make me think that he's obsessed.

He needn't worry about that – he's already made that fact abundantly clear.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

After breakfast, Alberto sent me out back to prune his rose bushes. I thought it was a pretty random request until I realised it was probably his idea of an appropriate retaliation to me calling him a prick. Get it? Roses, thorns, prick? Or maybe I'm just reading into things too much. Regardless, I actually enjoy gardening so I wasn't about to complain. I'm about a third of the way through the dozen or so bushes in the yard when I find myself needing a break to stretch my legs. At risk of sounding like an old fart, all this kneeling down is really making my knees ache. I slip off my gardening gloves and sit back on the lawn, legs straight out in front of me. After a moment, I feel eyes on my back and glance around. It's that kid again - Gabriela, was it? She's standing in the middle of the lawn, a little pink backpack slung over her shoulder. She stares at me silently. Is staring behaviour hereditary? If so, then maybe she **is** related to Alberto after all. Her staring isn't nearly as creepy as his though. She waves shyly, and I smile back.

'Hey there, little lady. What're you doing out here?'

She takes my words as encouragement to come closer. '_Mi tio_ said I could come out and play while Mama is busy.'

I manage to refrain from rolling my eyes. 'Really? That was nice of him…' Seriously, he's got a five year old girl spying on me now? Stay classy, Alberto! Gabriela flops down on the lawn beside me, mimicking my sitting position. She looks at the pile of bush clippings I've amassed so far and pouts.

'Why do you chop off their heads?'

I have to laugh at how annoyed she sounds. I point to the bush I'm halfway through working on.

'See how all the stems are curling around each other? I need to cut them away so the bush can grow better and look nicer next time it blooms.'

'Does it hurt?'

'Hurt the bushes? Nah, they don't feel a thing. I know it looks a little brutal, but it'll make the plants happy. They'll look beautiful in a few months.'

'Is that when you cut them again?'

'Somebody will, but it won't be me.'

As long as I can prevent myself from signing any more stupid contracts in the meantime, that is. She shuffles closer to the decapitated roses to get a better look.

'They're so pretty...'

I intercept her hand as she reaches out to pick one up.

'Hold on! Roses are lovely to look at, but their thorns are very sharp. Here…' I hand her the garden gloves and help her put them on. They're entirely too big for her, but they'll still serve their purpose. 'It's really important to protect yourself when you're handling something that could hurt you.'

I carefully pick up one of the cut flowers and hold it out to her. She closes her gloved hand around the stem, turning her fist so she can get a good look at the flower from all angles.

'Don't squeeze it too tight. They can still pierce through the gloves sometimes.'

God, I sound like Adam when he does his fussy big brother routine. I go back to working on the rosebush, keeping half an eye on what Gabriela is doing with the clippings. She brings a rose to her face and inhales, her smile big but slightly woeful.

'It's still real sad that they have to be cut,' she sighs.

'Yeah, but they don't need to go to waste. Maybe later, we can arrange some of them into a bunch and you can give them to your mom. Do you think she'd-Ow! Ffff…'

-ucking thorns! Thankfully I manage to keep my sailor-talk under wraps. As much as Alberto likes me, he'd probably kick my ass for teaching one of his staff member's kids how to curse. Gabriela looks a little concerned, so I shoot her a pained grin. I show her the small graze on my finger, covering it over when it starts to ooze blood. 'See what I mean about not protecting yourself?'

'You want your gloves back?'

I nearly say yes, but something about how content she looks sitting there playing with the roses makes me shake my head instead.

'Nah, don't worry about me. I'll just be super careful from now on.'

I turn back to the bush, focusing closely on the stems and the positioning of their thorns. I'm vaguely aware of Gabriela rummaging through her backpack behind me but I try not to let it distract me. The bushes aren't particularly thorny, really. If I work precisely enough, I should be able to avoid any more close encounters with these pointy little bastards. Just as I'm about to cut the next stem, I feel a little hand tap me on the shoulder. When I turn, Gabriela is stood beside me with the gardening gloves in her hand.

'I don't need to play with the flowers anymore. I'm gonna draw them with my crayons instead.'

Aww… 'Are you sure? I really don't mind.'

'Yeah. Here, take your gloves.'

When I take them from her, I notice that she has something else in her hand too. It's a brightly coloured children's band aid. She holds it up to my face, looking very serious.

'And this, for your booboo.'

For some reason, I start giggling hysterically at that. It must be about thirty years since I was last informed that I had a "booboo". When I calm down, I gratefully accept her colourful little offering. To be honest, my scratched finger isn't even bleeding anymore. I don't really need a band aid, especially not a neon pink one covered in girly cartoon characters, but I guess I can handle the emasculation if it'll make Gabriela feel better about it. Once my finger is bandaged up, I pull my gloves back on and grin up at her expectant little face.

'Are you better now?' she asks.

'Much better,' I nod enthusiastically. 'You're a very talented little nurse. Thank you.'

She smiles proudly before plopping back down on the lawn next to her colouring books. I think I'm starting to understand why Alberto is so enthusiastic about having children. If I was exposed to sweet little kids like Gabriela more often, I'd probably be keener to have them too.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

I had a pretty fun morning with Gabriela hanging around. She sat beside me as I worked, asking me questions about flowers or bugs she found in the yard. It was probably the longest conversation I'd ever had with a kid that wasn't exclusively about wrestling. It was surprisingly easy, mainly because she was doing most of the talking. When I'd finished my pruning work, I found her an old plant-pot to decorate with her crayons while I disposed of the bush cuttings. I saved some of the nicer looking roses and trimmed their stems down nice and short. When Gabriela was happy that the pot was colourful enough, I went about placing the flowers inside it as strategically as possible. My flower arranging skills are non-existent, but it looked good enough for its intended purpose. Our hard work now complete, my new little buddy and I sit cross-legged on the lawn as we admire our masterpiece.

'Do you think Mama will like it?' she asks.

'Of course she will. It's awesome.'

Gabriela blinks her wide brown eyes at me curiously. '_Awe-some_?'

'Yeah, you've done a great job! High five!' I grin and offer her the palm of my hand. She pats hers against it and giggles. Right then, the sound of Ricardo chattering in Spanish draws closer as he and Mariana appear in the doorway. 'Look, there's your mom! Let's go show her.'

Gabriela leaves me to gracelessly clamber to my feet as she scoops up the plant-pot and dashes towards the house.

'Mama! Look what me and _mi nuevo primo_ made for you!'

As Gabriela presents the roses to her mother, Ricardo arches an eyebrow at me. 'Had a productive morning?'

His tone is playful, but I still feel a little embarrassed. 'Gabriela did most of the work,' I blurt out. 'I just, err…assisted, I guess.'

'_Gracias! _It's beautiful, _mija_!' Mariana says, kissing her daughter's forehead.

'Yeah,' Ricardo nudges me, grinning. 'It's cute, Christian. And I love your pretty band aid too. It suits you.'

He nods at the pink monstrosity still wrapped around my wounded finger. It's obvious that he's not trying to be a dick about it so I play along, holding up my finger so he can have a closer look.

'It's definitely my colour, don't you think?'

'Yeah,' he sniggers. 'We'll have to get you a new uniform to match.'

I sincerely hope he's kidding. He steps towards Gabriela, gesturing towards the house with his arm.

'Gabriela_, ven conmigo a la cocina_._ Es la hora de almuerzo._'

She smiles happily. 'Awesome! High five, _mi primo_!'

Gabriela slaps her palm into Ricardo's outstretched hand, giggling as she scurries off into the house. He goes to follow her and laughs.

'You've extended her vocabulary too?' he calls over his shoulder. 'You **have** had a productive morning!'

Wow…she learned that from me? That's pretty cool, I guess. I'm now doubly glad that I didn't drop the F-bomb in front of her earlier! Mariana places the flowerpot down on a nearby table. She gazes at it fondly before turning to face me.

'Thank you so much for keeping an eye on her, Christian. I do hope she wasn't bothering you.'

'She was no bother at all. She's a really great kid.'

'Thank you for saying so, my dear. She truly is my everything. I feel so fortunate that _Señor_ Del Rio was able to bless me with her.'

Bless her with…? Woah, hang on a second! She can't possibly mean that… No, it can't be! Gabriela looks nothing like Alberto! Surely after all my nagging about dishonesty, he wouldn't keep something as major as having an illegitimate lovechild with his housekeeper from me? I curse myself for being so nosy, but I have to clarify…

'Sorry, I'm not sure that I understand. When you say that he 'blessed you with her', do you mean to say that he's her…?'

I find myself unable to finish my sentence. When Mariana realises what I'm implying, she roars with laughter. Huh… Guess I called that one wrong.

'Oh heavens no, my dear!' When her laughter subsides, she comes in close and lowers her voice. 'You see, my husband and I are unable to have children of our own. We tried for many years to adopt, but our applications were rejected again and again. If it hadn't been for _Señor_ Del Rio using his connections with an orphanage back in Mexico, we may never have been blessed with our perfect little Gabriela.'

Wow… I'm kinda stunned. Not by the part about Gabriela being adopted - the other part.

'I wasn't aware that Mr Del Rio had any connections with an orphanage.'

She nods. 'In fact, he sponsors a number of orphanages back in our homeland. It's a cause that's very close to his heart. He's very dedicated and truly is a generous man, despite his boastfulness. My family has known _Señor_ Del Rio for many years, and he has come to treat us as kindly as though we were his own family.'

'Glad to hear it…'

I don't really know what else I can say to that… A member of Alberto's cleaning staff suddenly pops their head around the door and says something to Mariana in Spanish. She politely excuses herself, leaving me to mull over what I'd just learned. I don't doubt that it's the truth. I just don't understand why anyone would keep such charitable behaviour a secret. Why didn't Alberto mention being a dedicated sponsor of orphans in his stupid obnoxious vignettes? That's a hell of a lot more impressive than, 'Hey, look at all of my pretty shiny cars!' At least, it is as far as I'm concerned… Why would he hide the goodness that he's capable of beneath such a horrible egocentric exterior? Who would ever believe that the rich and powerful Alberto Del Rio would be capable of such exceptional kindness?

I guess in a way, I could have believed it. There was a time when I would have expected such behaviour from him. Not from Alberto Del Rio, the Mexican aristocrat. But from the other Alberto. The Alberto that was presented to me in those letters…

I feel my heart start to ache a little and head off to find Ricardo. I need to be given something else to do, something to distract me from further contemplating this thing. I seem to keep on forgetting that whatever goodness or selflessness Alberto is capable of is irrelevant. Because the fact still remains that he's clearly incapable of honesty.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

I never did get the chance to ask Mariana about what Alberto had told her about me. She took Gabriela home shortly after lunchtime, her work for the day completed. Gabriela insisted on coming to find me to give me a goodbye hug, which seemed to amuse Ricardo no end. I didn't see much of Alberto throughout the day, but whenever I did he seemed to be in nothing short of a fabulous mood. For my afternoon duties, he asked me to visit the kennels again, taking as long as I needed this time. After I returned, he told me to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day. He even welcomed me to use his gym facilities. Part of me felt a little guilty, since Ricardo was still running around like a headless chicken getting everything ready for heading out to the shows tomorrow, but I was more than happy to sit and keep Kitty company on his behalf.

It's a little after five when Ricardo is finally able to join me in the living room. He flops down on the couch beside me, groaning a little as his muscles start to relax. He looks exhausted.

'All finished?' I ask.

He smiles tiredly and nods. Before he even has a chance to take his next breath, Alberto appears in the doorway.

'Ricardo? Bring me some coffee.'

Ricardo's face falls a little, but he manages to plaster on a fake smile as his eyes meet his employer's. '_Si_, _el patrón_.'

I scowl at Alberto's back as he leaves. He's always so fucking rude to Ricardo, which is terrible considering how hard the kid works for him. I catch Ricardo's wrist as he moves to stand.

'Take a load off, man. I'll do it.'

The way he looks at me, you'd have thought I'd just offered him a blowjob or something. '_¿En serio?_ Are you sure?'

I lift Kitty out of my lap and into his as I rise to my feet. 'Yeah, sure. I'm starting to get a little restless, and I need to learn my way around the kitchen anyway. You want anything while I'm in there?'

'Err…no, I'm fine. Thank you though.'

His grateful smile looks very genuine. I guess when you spend so much time being told what to do, you forget how nice it feels to have someone offer to help you for a change. Although Alberto's kitchen is huge, I use my initiative and it doesn't take me long to find a small bag of coffee beans in the pantry. I've never even heard of this brand before. It looks imported, Jamaican maybe? Damn, it smells amazing. I bet it costs a fortune, just like everything else in this house. I continue rummaging through the many cupboards for what I need. Cups? Check. Hand grinder? Check. Coffee pot?

'Well, aren't you in a helpful mood today?' Make that one almost-dropped-and-broken coffee pot! For a guy who claims to like me so much, Alberto seems determined to give me a fucking heart attack today with his new trick of randomly appearing out of nowhere! He offers me a placating smile as he approaches. 'After yesterday, I certainly wouldn't have expected you to be jumping at the chance to do something for me.'

I'm quick to compose myself, and consider explaining that my intention was to do something for Ricardo, not him. Instead, I just smile politely and continue setting up the coffee maker. I sense him moving to lean against the other end of the counter, and I don't need to look up to know that he's gazing over at me. After a long silence, I start to get irritated. I look up at him, trying not to show how much his presence is irking me.

'Is there something else you wanted or are you just gonna stand there and watch me?'

'I'm just watching. I'm not sure I fully trust you to prepare something I'm going to ingest yet.'

I can't help feeling a little offended by that. 'What do you think I'm gonna do? Jerk off into the filter?'

'_Tal vez__._ Not that it would bother me. As I recall, you taste just fine.'

…tell me he didn't just say that? Granted, he's joking, but still… He laughs at the scandalised expression on my face.

'_Lo siento._ Although in my defence, you lowered the tone first with your talk of abusing my filter.'

Fair point, I guess. I get back to the task at hand and as he steps closer to me.

'You're brewing it from scratch though? _Estoy impresionado__._'

I shrug. 'If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing right.'

'My sentiments exactly. Ricardo usually tries to bring me instant.'

I crinkle my nose at that. I'm not fussy about much, but I am a self-confessed coffee snob. 'Eww. He might as well bring you a cup of boiled sewer water.'

'_Si, exactamente! _That _idiota_ thinks I can't tell the difference because he can't tell the difference himself. He's one of those…tea-drinking sorts.'

He makes a kissy face and exaggeratedly mimes drinking from a teacup, complete with raised pinky. For whatever reason, seeing him do something so uncharacteristically silly makes me burst out laughing.

'I guess we'll have to enlighten him on the superior nature of a freshly-brewed cup of coffee sometime.'

I look away from him to grind the coffee beans down. When I glance back up, he looks…I don't know, pleased?

'You've seemed happier today.'

Have I? I guess I haven't been as mopey and defensive today. Probably because Alberto's actually given me some much-needed breathing space. I allow myself to give him a tiny smile in return.

'Well…' I'm not really sure what to say. Do I tell him I appreciate the space he's given me today, or will that reopen a can of worms? 'Well, I'm not the only one. **You've** barely stopped smiling all day.'

'_¿De qué estás hablando?_ I'm nearly always smiling!'

He gestures to the big grin on his face pointedly, and I can't help chuckling.

'No, you're nearly always **smirking**. Smiling because you're happy is something different.'

He lets out a contented sigh and shrugs. 'Ah, I suppose it may be due to the presence of little Gabriela. She has a way of bringing sunshine to my day. Children are wonderful, don't you think?'

Just as I'm about to gush about what a great kid Gabriela is, I remember my conversation on the landing with Ricardo yesterday. After seeing the way Alberto was with Gabriela today, the way he smiled when he was around her…it's a done deal. Saying I don't like kids is bound to turn him off from me. It's going to look kind of obvious if I outright claim to hate kids though. Subtly is the key here. I focus my full attention on loading up the coffee pot, trying to give off a clear air of indifference.

'They're okay, I guess.'

There's a pause. 'Okay?'

'Yeah. Like…they're okay in small doses, but I wouldn't want to be stuck next to one on a transatlantic flight, you know?'

Too subtle? Alberto laughs softly. 'Well, of course! Nobody wants that. But you'd feel differently if you had your own, wouldn't you?'

Yep. Clearly too subtle… 'Well, I dunno about that. I'm not even sure that I'd make a good parent, to be honest. I think I lack the patience for kids. They're just…kind of annoying. Do you take sugar?'

He doesn't respond to my attempt at changing the subject. '_¡Qué interesante!_ You didn't seem too annoyed earlier when you were playing out in the yard.'

Ah, fuck… I briefly look at him like I don't know what he's talking about.

'Playing? I wasn't playing, I was working. Were you happy with the rose bushes, by the way?'

'Yes, very much so. And what a charming little arrangement you created with the clippings. It complemented Gabriela's flowerpot beautifully. One might even say that it was…"awesome"?'

Ah, double fuck…

'Ricardo told you about that?'

'He didn't need to. I saw most of it for myself. You're very good with her. Very patient and kind. Not that I'd have expected anything less from someone like you.'

Okay, what the fuck? He can stand there and flatter me until he's blue in the face - nothing's going to diminish the fact that he's just admitted to secretly spying on me all day! Is this his idea of a new strategy? I would have preferred that he'd stuck with the old one and spent the day trying to kiss me rather than creeping around corners watching everything I do!

'So that's the reason Gabriela was hanging around me today? To provide me with some sort of parental aptitude test to undergo for your amusement?'

He looks taken aback by my accusation, and his surprise quickly morphs into anger.

'Of course not!' he snaps. 'What kind of man do you take me for?'

'Gee, I dunno! One who openly admits to doing whatever it takes to get what he wants, maybe?'

'_Tienes que ser jodidamente broma! Que me ofende! _You honestly think that I would stoop so low as to use a child as a pawn in my personal life?'

When I don't respond, he makes an exasperated sound and throws his hands up in the air. As strange as it seems, I actually feel a little guilty. He might sound angry, but the sadness in his eyes is obvious. He seems really upset that I would think so badly of him. The thing is that I'm not even sure that I do. He stands with his arms folded, glaring at the coffee pot. He definitely looks more hurt than angry. Aw, man…

'Look, I'm sorry,' I say gently. 'I don't think you'd use her like that, okay? I'm just sick of feeling like I'm always under surveillance here.'

He doesn't reply or even look at me, but his temper seems to have cooled almost as rapidly as it flared. I guess that was his passionate side coming out again. For what feels like forever, we both silently stare at the dripping liquid in the coffee pot. Alberto breaks the silence with a deep sigh.

'I didn't set out to spy on you,' he murmurs. 'You happened to be working directly outside my den window. I couldn't help but overhear, especially when what I was hearing was so impressive.' I don't comment. I really don't want to know his observations regarding my childcare abilities, but it's pretty clear that he plans to tell me anyway. 'Just so you know, you showed a lot of natural paternal instinct. Responsible, caring, readily putting a child's needs before your own. Despite what you may think, you have all the makings of a wonderful father.'

I try not to roll my eyes, but I can't help it. 'And you find that appealing, right?'

'There are a lot of things about you that appeal to me, Christian.' I can hear a smile creeping back into his voice. 'I find something new every day.'

'Even yesterday?'

He chuckles and moves closer to me. I desperately don't want to look up at him, but I do. His face has softened, his eyes all puppyish and adoring again.

'Yesterday, I discovered how headstrong and spirited you can be. You possess a sturdy sense of morality, and you are absolutely unafraid to challenge me. I like all those things.'

He's doing that voice again. And I'm fucking blushing again! I turn my face away from him as I fill a cup with coffee, silently praying that he doesn't notice.

'Those, err…aren't exactly desirable qualities in an employee though, are they?'

He gives me a funny look as I slide the full cup across the countertop towards him.

'In an employee? Certainly not. In a lover, on the other hand…' He raises his cup to his mouth and takes a sip. He lets out a sensual moan as he swallows, and my mouth suddenly goes dry. '_Perfecto._ You'll make someone an excellent househusband someday, Christian. And by someone, I mean me. Hopefully.' He winks and nods at the coffee pot. 'Feel free to drink the rest, if you wish. _Nos vemos más tarde__._'

With a curt wave, he turns and leaves the kitchen. Well… that was quite the varied head-fuck of a conversation. Right up until the part when he started talking about kids, I almost felt like we were starting to bond a little. It was actually quite nice to see him acting like a down-to-earth human being with a personality and a sense of humour instead of a bratty self-satisfied jackass for a change. I feel like I was given a glimpse at a side of him that I could actually grow to like. As a friend, anyway. Even though having such a relationship with him will probably never be possible. He's made it pretty clear that friendship isn't enough for him as far as I'm concerned. That's too bad…

The delicious smell of gourmet coffee draws my attention back to the steaming pot. As suggested, I pour what remains into a cup and sip it tentatively. I savour that one small mouthful for a long time before reluctantly emptying the rest down a nearby sink. Alberto was right – it's perfect, probably the best coffee I've ever tasted. But for some reason, I just don't feel like I can enjoy it.

/\\/\\/\\/\/\\/\\

The evening passes without any drama, and bedtime soon arrives. I'm not summoned to another impromptu meeting with Alberto, so I'm able to go straight to my room. The second I open the door, I'm hit with a familiar scent. I flick the lights on to see that a blue vase has been placed on my dresser. It's filled with a large number of long stemmed roses, so many that it obscures the dresser mirror from my view almost completely. There's a note attached.

'_Thank you for your kindness towards Gabriela today. I understand you well enough to know that you find grand romantic gestures distasteful. However, I felt that this was an appropriate way to express my gratitude. You truly are wonderful.'_

There's no name signed, but it isn't necessary. I'd know his penmanship anywhere. It's beautiful and elegant, almost like calligraphy. I remember how seeing his writing used to make me feel, back when all he really was to me was a bunch of words on a page. Every perfectly crafted word is like a rose itself now – as lovely as they are to see, the thorns hidden between them are still so painful. How can something possessing so much beauty hurt so much?

I toss the note onto the dresser and cross the room to my bag. I still hadn't seen fit to unpack it yet, too used to living out of a suitcase to find it necessary. I fish around for my wallet, and once I recover it I go to sit on the edge of the bed. From a secret zipped compartment behind my credit cards, I take out a folded piece of paper I've looked at too many times to count. My eyes drink in the beautiful cursive prose in Spanish adorning one side, and the crude translations in my own clumsy hand-writing which tarnish the other. I know every word by heart by now. There's really no need for me to read them, but I still do.

'_To my dearest Christian,_

_The days since I last set eyes upon you have seemed endless. Watching you from afar is no substitute. I long to be close to you, to once again witness your majestic passion and kindness of heart. I burn to feel you again, to have you gaze into my soul as you breathe sweet waves of ecstasy against my lips. I need you to complete me. Without you, I am only half a man._

_I cannot reveal my true self to you yet, as to do so may bring great harm upon both of us. What I can reveal is that I am a simple man who leads a modest life. As such, there is much that I do not understand about this world. People and their greedy self-serving actions are confusing to me. I know that you feel the same, my love._

_We are kindred spirits, you and I. I feel a connection between your soul and mine, one so profound that I cannot even begin to explain it. It is no mere accident that life's winding pathway has brought you to me. You have captured my imagination like no other. One day soon, our paths will entwine once again. We will complete one another, and live out our days in the glory of a love that was fated from the beginning of time._

_There is no escaping from our future. It is already written._

_It is our destiny.'_

Despite its outrageously intense wording – or perhaps because of it - this used to be my favourite of his letters. Now I use it only as a constant reminder of how much it hurt to have someone I care for lie to me again. Whenever I've looked at it before, it would just make me angry. Right now though? It's only making me wonder what could have been…

I've spent so much time and energy contemplating Alberto's behaviour, yet I've deliberately held back from analysing my own. Mostly because I knew exactly what I'd find if I did. Last night in the den, I allowed him to get close to me, to touch me, to say sweet things to me. Nothing was keeping me from bolting for the door at any time. So why didn't I? Why did I allow myself to give him a glimmer of hope when in reality, there is none? I know exactly why. It's because deep down, I wish that there was one.

I'm not sure I believe that fate brought us together, but he is right about one thing. There **is** an inexplicable connection between us. I was wrong this morning, when I said I couldn't understand Alberto's level of infatuation with me. I know fine well how he could feel so strongly for me based on so little, because I felt it once too. I felt it from the moment we stepped in between the ropes together for the first time. I dismissed it as simple in-ring chemistry at first but after our little shower-room encounter, I realised it was more than that. It was deeper than just physical attraction. It was the closest thing I'd ever felt to the ridiculous cliché that is "love at first sight". And all it took was a handful of stupid love notes to sucker me in even further.

I don't believe in destiny. As such, I don't believe that we were destined to be together. But I do believe that, had things turned out differently, we could have made a go of it. That we even could have been happy together… And that's a belief I sorely wish that I could let go of. It was that belief that clouded my judgment last night. It was that belief that forced me to stay sat on that couch for as long as I did when I should have run. Even now, I can still feel the ever-present shadow of doubt looming in my mind, urging me to go to him, to forgive his deceit and give him a second chance. That shadow is terrifying to me in ways I can't explain. I'm scared that it'll make me give into him eventually. I'm scared that it'll cause me to see so much good in him that I'll drop my guard and allow him to charm me back into his arms. And the scariest thing about it is that I know Alberto can sense my fear. He can see as clear as day that I'm conflicted, that I'm desperately trying to ignore what I feel for him. And he's banking on my resolve crumbling eventually. It can't happen though. I can't allow myself to be so weak and gullible again…

Damn it, Alberto! Why couldn't you have just told me the truth? Why did you have to paint me such a distorted picture of yourself? Seriously, what the hell was he thinking when he wrote this? There's nothing 'simple' or 'modest' about him, or his life. And the less said about the 'greedy self-serving people' part, the better! And perhaps worst of all was that bullshit about 'great harm' befalling us if he were to reveal his identity. His god-awful vignettes aired for weeks before he revealed who he truly was to me, yet he claimed that he was so desperate for us to be together. Why would he not reveal himself to me the second that first vignette hit the screen? Why did he hide from me for so long? Was there ever a time when it was genuinely dangerous for him to reveal his identity, or was that bullshit too? Was it meant to be some sort of surprise? Was he expecting some sort of big reaction from me when I found out that my 'simple and modest' admirer was in fact a millionaire aristocrat? Did he really think that something so ultimately meaningless would impress me?

The saddest thing about it is that I think I could have loved him despite his faults. His arrogance, his materialism, his lasciviousness, his abrasiveness; none of it would have really mattered to me. I even could have forgiven him for injuring Rey, in time. I don't require my lovers to be flawless individuals, especially when I'm so far from perfect myself. A liar, though… That's one flaw I can't overlook. Not anymore. He's already hurt me with his dishonesty once. People who lie about the little things will inevitably lie about the big things too. I can't be so blind and stupid that I'd willingly give myself over to somebody who could hurt me again. Been there, done that. A chance at happiness just isn't worth the risk of so much heartache.

I stare at the dog-eared letter in my hands, and briefly consider tearing it to pieces. As usual, the thought leaves my head as quickly as it enters it, and I cram the letter back into my wallet before tossing it back into my open bag. I can't keep doing this to myself… I need to get my head straight, and tomorrow is the perfect time to do it. We're travelling out for the shows, and the first thing I plan to do when we get to the first arena is find Adam. There's nobody better at clearing my head and strengthening my resolve than him.

/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\

Author notes: Congratulations if you've made it this far without falling asleep! If my portrayal of a five year old girl was inaccurate, I apologise. I know bugger all about kids and what they're capable of doing or saying at certain ages, so I took an uneducated guess. I was going for cute, basically. Hopefully, it came across okay. In the next chapter, Christian observes the way Alberto portrays himself to others at work and has quite a bit to say about it. Also, this lying bastard of an ex that Christian keeps banging on about? There'll be one or two hints dropped about who it is and what they did to hurt him in the next chapter, so keep your eyes peeled for that. I'll try my damnedest not to make you guys wait another three weeks for an update this time around. Thanks so much for reading, and as always, I love reading your reviews so if you have a few minutes, let me know what you thought. See you next time!


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